


Dire

by LeoArcana



Series: Dire 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha Dean Winchester, Anal Sex, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Character Death, Come Swallowing, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Frottage, Human Castiel, Human Gabriel, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Multiple Orgasms, Naked Cuddling, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Psychological Trauma, Riding, Shower Sex, Skinwalker Dean, Skinwalker Sam, Theft, Violence, no bestiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 166,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1924422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoArcana/pseuds/LeoArcana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel moved out to the wide open and sparsely populated plains of Montana for a more private life.  He's not much of a people person, his only company has been his brother, Gabriel and his dog, Anna.  But no one ever told him wolves inhabited this part of Montana.  Well, that's because they don't.  And as he finds out later, they aren't wolves either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Place to Call Home

Castiel drove down the deserted interstate, enjoying the warm wind whipping in through the windows.  Even at high noon, he hadn’t seen another soul on the interstate for the past eighty miles.  But that was one of the reasons he’d decided to move out here, to Montana.  His new house wasn’t even in town; it was over a dozen miles away from the city limits of Missoula.  Which was a fairly small town, not as small as he would’ve liked, but it was far better than Seattle.  Not to mention the size of the property; Anna was going to love that. 

He smiled to himself and reached over to the passenger seat and ruffled Anna’s soft, now wind blasted, fur.  She was an older collie, but sometimes still acted like a puppy.  Castiel had always felt bad she’d been limited to his almost nonexistent backyard and walks for play and exercise.  There had been homes with larger yards, they just didn’t happen to be the same ones in his budget.  This new house, though, was well within range of his budget despite being over twenty-five hundred square feet with four bedrooms, one and half bath, and sitting on an acre and a half.  He’d asked the real estate agent why the house was so cheap; it seemed like something that would’ve been snatched up immediately.  She’d said part of it was in fact its remoteness, it was at least a thirty minute drive to reach Missoula’s city limit.  The other part was that previous owners gave the property grief for the local wildlife that had a tendency to take any livestock and creep on the property.

That had made Castiel hesitate a bit, he didn’t want Anna wandering around outside one day and get attacked by cougar or coyote or whatever the problem predator was.  But he’d find a way to make sure she stayed safe. 

He pulled off the interstate onto a dusty, unkempt road.  It wasn’t even an exit, just a turn off that was almost exclusively for his house.  Driving the bumpy road everyday was going to be annoying for a while, but he’d get used to it.  The road rose up higher, giving him a view of the plateau and forest below below, the interstate and the Missouri river.  Actually seeing the house in person now, he couldn’t imagine any really trying to ranch on it; small livestock, sure, but nothing like a herd of cattle or horses.

He stopped in the front of the house, rolling up the windows and as soon as he opened the door, Anna bounded across his lap and jumped out, taking off to the new house.  He swept his eyes over the land, quickly checking for any unwanted animals, but saw none.  Anna stood on the porch, impatiently wagging her tail and prancing around.  He rolled his eyes and walked up to the porch, digging the house key out of his pocket.

“You’re almost thirteen, why don’t you act like it?” Castiel grumbled.

Anna barked happily as he pushed the door open and disappeared inside to explore.  He looked back to the trailer, borrowed from his brother, attached to the truck.  He didn’t really feel like unloading everything right now, he’d just spent literally the entire day driving.  But the task wasn’t going to be any less daunting tomorrow.  He sagged his shoulders, went back to the truck and started unstrapping everything.  He was thankful his brother, Gabriel, had let him borrow a dolly as well to move his furniture; especially since no one was there to help.  Gabriel had offered, but Castiel declined, saying that this was help enough. 

He spent the next two hours just moving things into the front living room and by then was exhausted enough to decide on moving everything into place later.  He flopped down on the mattress laying in the middle of the floor with a yawn.  Anna trotted over and stood over his arm, tilting her head curiously at him.

“Yeah, thanks for all the help,” Castiel sighed.

Anna leaned down and licked at his face before perking up.  She took a few steps towards the back door, making sure at least two steps were on Castiel’s stomach.  She gave a quick yip that had Castiel sitting up and looking in the same direction.  The sun had set not too long ago, making seeing anything somewhat difficult, but he was sure he saw an animal’s silhouette dash off back into the trees.  Castiel swallowed thickly and got up, doing a quick run through the house to make sure all the doors and windows were shut and nothing had gotten in.  Nothing had and none of the windows or doors were open.  He relaxed a bit at that and picked up his car keys, hitting the lock button twice and glancing out of the window to make sure the truck did actually lock.

He returned to the mattress, kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his flannel shirt this time, and laid down again.  Anna kept moving through the house, occasionally yipping at something, until Castiel shouted for her to come back to the living room.  She came back, though kept her eyes fixed on the window.  

“C’mere,” Castiel ordered.

Anna came back onto the mattress and Castiel threw an arm over her, forcing her to lay down.

“Knock it off, you’re gonna make me regret this place in less than a day…”

Anna squirmed under his arm, but eventually settled down.  She was asleep within minutes, but because of her, Castiel was awake for hours.  He wanted to get up and go to the window to see what was out there, but part of him was too afraid to.  So, he just laid there with his back to the window and kept his eyes on Anna’s face.  It probably wasn’t until about four or five hours later that he actually fell asleep.

He woke up the next morning to Anna nudging and licking his face, telling him to get up and get her breakfast.  Castiel groaned and pushed himself up, feeling sore all over.  Even though he’d slept on a mattress, it wasn’t exactly an iComfort and wasn’t propped up on its box spring and frame.  He walked over to a stack of boxes and started digging through them in search of her bowl and dogfood. 

Castiel set the bowl on the floor and leaned back against the wall.  He’d have to go grocery shopping today for his own food.  He rubbed a hand down his face, glancing down at Anna who was staring up at him curiously.

“What?”

Anna tilted her head and resumed eating.  Castiel shook his head, watching her until she decided she was done and wanted to go outside.  He followed her to the door and paused with his hand on the handle, suddenly remembering the thing that had been lurking outside last night.  He turned away from the door and started off towards the boxes again, ignoring Anna’s whine of protest.  He went through a few boxes, but eventually he found the one hold a small, heavy duty case and set down on the floor.  Anna trotted back over, sticking her head under his arm as he opened the case and sniffed curiously at the contents.  Castiel scowled and pushed her nose away from the gleaming black pistol.

Gabriel had gotten it for him as a going away present, saying that he’d need at least ‘a little something something’ to protect himself from whatever was in Montana.  Castiel had rolled his eyes at it at the time, but now he was grateful for it.  He picked up the gun and loaded a full magazine with ease; it wasn’t hard, plus it wasn’t the first time he’d done it.  He went back to the door, opening it just enough for him to take a half step out and look around.  There was nothing creeping around the old fence in the bushes and trees, thankfully they were sparse and thin enough here to see if something was hiding or not. 

Castiel stepped out, holding the door open for Anna.  She ran past him into the yard and started rolling around in the unkempt golden grass.  He let her play for a minute, looking away when she did her business, then whistled for her to come back.  She did so reluctantly, flashing puppy eyes up at him.  He did his best to ignore them.  He was going to be unpacking everything and he didn’t want her to wander off until he knew what had been lurking.  He scooted her inside, shutting the door behind them and placed the gun on the window sill.  He stared at the stacks of boxes with a sigh; he’d been right, the task of unpacking was still as daunting as it had been last night.  He mentally chided himself for not even starting at least.

He started with the two boxes he’d opened for Anna’s dog food and the gun and worked his way from there.  After a few hours of unpacking and arranging, his stomach growled loudly to remind him he hadn’t eaten since yesterday.  He checked the fridge to make sure it was running properly; that was another blessing about the house, it came with all its appliances.  Then he whistled for Anna to come along with him.  Not because he was worried about anything getting in the house, but because he just liked her company and she loved going out.  She followed him outside and waited as he locked the door and unlocked the truck.  He kept the door open for a couple minutes to let all the heat out, but Anna hadn’t cared much.  She just jumped right in.

Castiel shook his head and rolled his eyes, rolling the windows down and starting the truck.  Getting back on the interstate wasn’t a problem, there still were hardly any people.  He could take his time getting up to the seventy mile per hour limit if he wanted and not hinder anyone.  Twenty minutes later, he was getting off the interstate and pulling into the parking lot of a small grocery store.  It was really more of glorified general/convenience store, but it would work for now.  He wasn’t planning on restocking the house today, just enough food to make it until tomorrow.  He parked in a shaded area and left all the windows down, knowing Anna knew better than to jump out.  Ordinarily, he’d bring her in with him, but he didn’t know this stores stance on dogs.

He made short work of shopping, taking no more than five minutes at most.  While the cashier rang everything up, he decided to ask if they knew where the Roadhouse was; it was going to be his new work.  The cashier told him it was just a mile or two before Missoula’s city limits, only about another fifteen to twenty minutes from there.  It wasn’t as bad of a drive as he’d been thinking.  He gathered up his stuff and went back to the truck, making a face at Anna’s barking.  Castiel set the bags down in the back seat and Anna immediately moved back there with them and began nosing through them.

“Hey, hey, stop that!  You have your food,” Castiel snapped.

He leaned back and hauled her up to the front seat, pointing at her with the silent command of ‘stay’.  He kept an eye on her the whole way back home, not trusting her for a second.  Once he was home again, he put most of the food away and fixed himself lunch.  Anna pawed at the door, wanting to go outside again, and he decided he may as well eat lunch on the back porch.  Castiel took the gun from the window sill as he opened the door for her, then sat down on the dusty, wooden porch.  He watched her walk around in seemingly random patterns with her nose buried in the grass.  A few times she almost wandered past the fence, but she never actually stepped over the split rail fence; on the other side was a steep hill leading to the canyon floor.

Castiel finished his food and set the plate aside, eyeing Anna as she wandered further to the side of the house.  He stood up, dusting himself and followed her over.  The fence came to an end, showing there was a much less steep path down the canyon floor as well as a small barn a few yards down against the side of the steeper portion of the hill.  He didn’t know it was there; downsides of looking at a house online.  Anna followed a winding scent down towards the barn and Castiel bit his lip.  There was the thought in the back of his mind that whatever last night’s visitor was could be in there.  The barn had a few missing panels, it would be easy enough for anything to get in and out.

He tightened his hold on his gun and followed Anna, snapping at her to come back.  Everytime he did, she just looked up curiously at him before putting her nose back to the ground and continuing on.  When she got close the barn, Castiel ran ahead of her, stopping her from going in first.  He pushed the door open, now out of his own curiosity, and peeked inside.  There was a few pieces of ranching equipment and what he assumed was a tractor and a couple ATVs; all three were under tarps.  Still, he slowly walked inside, with Anna close at his heels, and looked around.  None of the equipment had been used in a long time, some of it even looked broken, and there was a good layer of dust over the tarps covering the tractor and ATVs.  Most the dirt and hay scattered over the ground looked dead, stale and flat; most of it. 

Over by one of the holes in the side of the barn, it looked like it’d been freshly churned up and rustled.  There was another spot like that next a much smaller hole on the other side. That hole appeared to have another plank broken by whatever exited.  Moving closer to the smaller hole, whatever left had claws that left the ground scratched as it had scrambled to fit itself through.

“C’mon, Anna, let’s go back inside…”

He whistled to get her attention, but she didn’t respond. 

“Anna?” Castiel called louder.

He walked swiftly through the barn and around the tractor to find her poking her head through the broken panels.  He scowled at her and grabbed her by the collar, pulling her head back inside.  She made a whine of protest and tried to stick her head out again, but he kneeled in the way and looked through himself.  He didn’t see anything but a sudden rustle in the trees, like something had just bounded into them.  Castiel tensed, quickly standing up and hurrying Anna back out of the barn.  Thankfully, the barn door was in the opposite direction.  He scooted her along everytime she glanced back, mumbling for her to keep going to the house.

Castiel promptly shut the door behind them and locked it.  Anna whined and pawed at the door, but he ignored her.  He searched through the living room and kitchen for where he’d left his phone.  When he found it, he pulled up the mobile internet, since he had yet to set up wifi, and searched what animals lived in the area. 

Deer, skunks, bears, raccoons, mountain lions…

Whatever she’d been looking at had been quick and pretty decent sized, assuming it was the same animal from last night.  His heart skipped a beat as he realized only the mountain lion fit that description.  It had been right there, probably only feet from Anna.  He set his phone down and rubbed his hands down his face; he was going to have keep Anna closer and would probably end up needing something with more power than a basic pistol.

Castiel shook his head and got up to resume unpacking and organizing.  He spent the rest of the day doing just that, pausing only to eat a small dinner and make sure Anna still had food and water.  He didn’t finish by the time night came, but it was only a few small boxes left that would take no time tomorrow.  He took a quick shower before changing clothes and crawling into bed, which was now properly set up and much more comfortable.  Anna came in a few minutes later, but instead of jumping up on the bed with him, she went to the window and stood up on her hind legs, placing her front paws on the sill.  She tilted her head, wagging her tail, and shifted around to keep her balance.  Castiel tried to ignore her, knowing he probably didn’t want to see the predator out there, but when she started barking and yipping, he found himself getting up.

He stood next to her and leaned forward, squinting to see in the dark.  He could see the silhouette again, this time the animal was standing just inside the fence line.  With it facing them and no lights on, it was hard to distinguish its features.  For a minute, it did nothing back stare back up at them.  Then it turned its head, flicking a pointed ear as it glanced around, then lifted its head in a howl.  Castiel clenched his jaw, feeling a chill set in his bones at the sound.  It was a _wolf_ , definitely not a coyote, but a wolf.  And a rather large one at that for him to think it could’ve been a mountain lion after last night.

Castiel felt the color drain from his face.  The real estate agent had said nothing about wolves and his search results hadn’t mentioned them for this region.  He watched the wolf turn and bound back over the fence, disappearing into the bushes and trees, down the steep hill.  He desperately hoped it wouldn’t come back, but with this being the second night in a row it had visited, it knew that hope was in vain.  He’d have to do something to scare it off permanently or kill it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was coming back from a roadtrip to montana and randomly thought this up while staring out the window at a whole lotta nothing. thoughts, comments?


	2. Open Doors

It had been a week now, since Castiel moved in.  Every night, the wolf was always standing just inside the fence and watching.  Sometimes, Castiel thought he’d seen it during the day. laying low among the brush.  He’d tried to scare it away by firing shots right next to it, but it never ran.  All it ever did was flinch and look where the bullet hit the ground before looking back to Castiel and tilting its head.  He knew his only other option to get the creature to go away was to kill it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  It hadn’t actually done anything and Castiel was starting to think that it was never going to do anything. 

But he still wouldn’t let Anna go outside without him; that would be the second the wolf did something.  He could tell Anna wasn’t happy with being inside so much.  Whenever he went to work, he made sure she stayed inside with all the doors and windows shut.  With it only being early June, it wasn’t too warm yet, but he still left a few fans going.  He tried to make it up to her by bringing extra dog treats home and new toys, but she wasn’t having it.  She just wanted to go outside and run around.  Castiel sighed; that’d been half the reason he picked this place and now, thanks to that wolf, he couldn’t let her.

He scratched Anna behind the ear, promising to be back later, before shutting the door and leaving for work.  So far, he liked working at the Roadhouse.  Ellen, the owner, was Jo’s mother, but she acted like everyone’s mother.  Jo, her daughter, liked to talk to him.  Partially because she’d never had the chance to really talk to someone from a big city.  Also, partially because he was someone she _could_ talk to; conversations with Ellen never got far before they turned into the same old argument and ones with Ash, the other bartender, never took off.  He was usually either sleeping on the pool table, which Ellen barked at him for frequently, or working on some odd trinket from a junk yard or garage sale.

So far, the bar had yet to be busy while Castiel was there.  Jo complained it was always like this, save for weekends or anytime some kind of event was going on nearby.  He sighed, leaning against the counter, wondering how the Roadhouse managed to stay in business; there was only one patron in the bar. 

With nothing better to do, Castiel decided to take his break then.  He slid into a booth and pulled out his phone, contemplating calling Gabriel.  He knew Gabriel was probably getting anxious and wanting to call him, but he’d agreed to wait until Castiel had settled in and called him first.  Castiel rolled his eyes with a sigh and tapped the call button.  It wasn’t more than half way through the second ring when Gabriel answered.

“It’s about time!”

“Were you watching the phone for me to call…?”

“It’s the twenty-first century, everyone has their phones on them all the time,” Gabriel drawled, “Make it out there alright?”

“Yes, everything went just fine.”

“Anna did okay?”

“I don’t think she liked being in the car for so long,” Castiel shrugged.    

“I wouldn’t either.  Wouldn’t kill ya to rest up at a motel instead of driving straight through.  But hey, ‘least she’s got all that space to run around now.”

“Uh— y-yeah, she does,” Castiel nodded.

“Cassie.”

“Hm?”

“Is she getting to _use_ that space?” Gabriel asked.

Castiel slumped back in his seat, rubbing the side of his neck.

“Not exactly.  There’s, um…  A rogue wolf or something hanging around and I don’t want her out there alone, so she’s only out if I’m with her.”

“You sure it’s a wolf?  Those aren’t exactly common there…”

“I know, but I’ve seen it.  It lurks around at night and I’ve seen it a couple times in the day.  I’ve tried to scare it off, but it just— doesn’t scare.”

“Maybe you should get ahold of the wildlife department,” Gabriel suggested.

“If it causes problems, I will.  But it’s not really doing anything, just walks around a little and watches the house for a little while.”

“Maybe it wants to eat you.”

“Thank you, that’s very comforting…”

“Hey, I’m just sayin’,” Gabriel laughed.

Castiel hummed in acknowledgement, then hearing muffled sounds over the line.  He scowled in confusion and realized Gabriel was talking to someone.

“Sorry, bro, but I gotta go.  Kali’s gettin’ impatient about going out to lunch now.”

“That’s alright, tell her I said ‘hello’.”

“I will, talk to ya later, alright?”

“Of course.”

Castiel hung up without saying goodbye; they never did anyways.  He let out a breath, glancing around for something to do for the remainder of his shift.  The problem was that, with it never being busy, there wasn’t much to do.  He went back through the bar, cleaning all the glasses; again.  Then straightened the displayed bottles into an overly perfect straight line.  Both Jo and Ash made an off-handed comment about him having OCD for it.  He swept the floors, straightened chairs, wiped down tables…essentially cleaned and organized the already fairly clean and organized bar. 

Castiel ended up standing around, doing nothing, for at least an hour after he’d finished all that.  He was more than relieved by the time the end of his shift came.  Jo was the only one to really say goodbye.  Ellen grumbled a ‘see you tomorrow’ as she went over some paperwork, while Ash gave a lazy wave from his place on the pool table.  Castiel heard Ellen snap at Ash as the door swung close behind him.

The drive home was short, as short as it could be for the distance.  Castiel pulled into the garage, having finally cleaned it up, and unlocked the door.  Anna wasn’t right there waiting for him like she had been the past few days, he didn’t even hear her scrambling to the door.  Castiel’s heart skipped a beat as he practically threw his keys on the counter and walked quickly through the house.  He was nearly running by the time he reached his bedroom and froze in the doorway to see Anna staring back at him innocently.

He breathed a sigh of relief, running a hand down his face and crossing the room over to her.  He rubbed her head between her ears.  She pressed up into his hand, thumping her tail.

“The hell is wrong with you, hm?” Castiel hummed lightly.

He sat down on the bed beside her, pausing when he noticed the spot was warmed.  He shook his head, figuring Anna had just rolled over.  He scratched behind her ear before patting her on the side and urging her to get up.  She’d been inside all day and more than likely needed to go outside.  She followed him to the back door and he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, she kept glancing around.  Castiel checked around as well, but didn’t find anything.  He scowled over his shoulder down at her, mentally telling her to stop it. 

He grabbed the handle of the door and pushed, but the door didn’t open.

“Oh right, it’s locked,” Castiel mumbled to himself.

He went back to where he’d tossed his keys and came back, twisting the handle of the door with the key in it, but it still didn’t open.  He knitted brow together in confusion and tried again, twisting the handle and pushed harder; it still didn’t give.

“What the hell?  I didn’t shut it that hard,” Castiel growled.

He tried two more times before gripping the handle with both hands and bracing to ram his shoulder.  Castiel threw his weight at it and this time the door gave way with a loud crack and fell crooked.  He stumbled through and caught himself, turning around to look back at the door.  It hung by one hinge from a frame sporting three heavy, deep cracks that sure as hell hadn’t been there before.  Anna stepped up to the frame, tilting her head and sniffing at it.  Castiel grabbed the door gently, unsure how well the remaining hinge was holding it, and moved it back to look at the front of the door.  There were a few scratches around knee height; all in sets of four and about the same length.  Two sets ventured higher, up to the handle.  The handle that had apparently been forced and broken.

Castiel gaped, eyes going wide and darting down to Anna, who was still sniffing at the door and wagging her tail again.  Something had gotten inside his house.  He twisted around and stared towards the fence, searching up and down its length.  The wolf wasn’t there, not right now at least.  But there wasn’t a shred of doubt in Castiel’s mind it was responsible for the scratches.  But the door had been forced open, it had to have gotten in then.  Castiel’s blood ran cold; someone let the wolf in.  It could still be inside somewhere.  He shooed Anna back inside, bringing the door closed as far as it could without forcing it again.  He made a run for his pistol, switching the safety off and keeping his finger on the trigger.  He ordered Anna to stay where she was, he didn’t want her to spook him by accident, and she knew better than to disobey by the tone of his voice.

He walked as silently as he could, going through the rooms more thoroughly this time.  He didn’t find anything or anyone, but he wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved at that or not.  He walked back to the living room where Anna waited patiently for him.  Castiel sighed, shaking his head and going to the window.  As expected, the wolf stood outside staring back at him.  But this time it stood noticeably close than it had all week, almost within the reach of the lights coming from inside the house.  Castiel stepped up to the window, pressing his face to the glass and cupping his hands around his face to see better.

He squinted, mentally willing the wolf to come just a little bit closer.  The wolf ducked its head taking a hesitant step forward.  Feeling a little bolder, the creature hunched lower and crept closer.  It paused just before the porch, flicking its tails and ears, waiting for a reaction.  Castiel froze, his breath catching in his throat and heart skipping several beats.  Seeing Castiel was doing nothing, it slowly moved up onto the porch, keeping its eyes fixed on him.  They were _green_ , vibrant emerald green.

At the sound of a distant howl, the wolf stopped and perked its head up.  It waited a second before it took off running for the fence and disappearing down the steep hill just like it had done every night so far. 

His head turned down to Anna, who’d moved up beside him at some point and been watching through the window as well.  Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced up at him and wagged her tail.  “What…what the hell?” Castiel breathed, “What happened?  Why the hell would someone break the door for it?  Who would even—“

His train of thought stopped, it wasn’t going anywhere that made any sense.  No one lived anywhere near him and what possible reason could they have for letting a wild animal in his house?  He stepped back from the window, running his hands through his hair and struggling to keep his breathing under control.  Anna walked up to him, butting her head against his leg.  She wasn’t even remotely worried.  Castiel dropped down on the couch and Anna hopped up beside him, nosing at his arm.  He was glad she was okay and, as far as he could tell, whoever opened the door either hadn’t taken anything or they hadn’t come in at all.  But neither of those facts did anything to help him relax. 

There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight.  The door was still broken; the wolf could come back and nuzzle it open, whoever broke it in the first place could come back…  He leaned back and pulled Anna closer; it was going to be a long night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters feel so short but maybe that's because i've been working on [Seven Days](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1443685/chapters/3037018) and that has chapters like four and half times longer... d'you guys want longer chapters for this?  
> 


	3. Follow

Castiel hadn’t slept at all that night.  Or, at least, he didn’t think he did.  He did close his eyes a few times in the ungodly hours of the morning, but he was sure he’d snapped them open right away everytime.  He flinched and looked around everytime the house made a little noise or the wind brushed through the broken door and disturbed something.  But nothing actually happened all night, no one and no _thing_ came around.

He was grateful it was his off and sleeping all day sounded like a wonderful idea; if it weren’t for the fact the door was still broken.  He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, deciding to take a quick shower and change his clothes before heading into town for supplies.  Sure, he could call some company or freelance professional to come fix his door, but it was cheaper this way and he more than capable of doing it himself.  He took Anna along with him to the store, not wanting to leave her alone with an open door.  She waited in the truck, rather impatiently, and leaned out of the window to try and sniff at the planks of wood and new door Castiel placed in the truck bed; it’d save him a little time to buy a door already made.  He tossed a bag into the passenger seat and Anna took to pawing at it curiously, finding a box of nails and screws, new hinges, a new handle, a new deadbolt and a set of keys to go with them.

Once they were home again, Anna trotted over to the broken door and wagged her tail.  Castiel knew she wanted to go outside and play around a bit, but he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on her if he was working on the door.  So, he compromised.  He dug her leash out of one the few remaining boxes of miscellaneous things that probably wouldn’t get unpacked until he needed them and tethered it to the porch.  She was perfectly free to roam; as long as it was in an eight foot radius.  But she seemed happy with the compromise. 

The day ticked by slowly with Castiel prying off the broken frame and pulling out every nail that held it.  Whoever had put this door on had clearly been very nail-happy.  It was sometime around putting up the third piece of trim that Anna perked up at something and walked until her leash was taut.  When she didn’t move after that, Castiel paused and dared to look over his shoulder.  The tawny wolf was standing at the fence, cocking its head to the side as its eyes flicked between Anna and Castiel.  Castiel shuddered at the memory of its strangely vibrant green eyes and wasn’t too thrilled for it to come so close again.  He remembered then that his pistol was inside on the counter, but oddly enough, he wasn’t too concerned.  The creature hadn’t done anything other than apparently scratch his door up and even then, it had waited until he was gone to do it.  Like it knew he’d retaliate.

He watched the wolf a second longer, it licked its lips and sat down beside a post.  Anna whined, wagging her tail slowly and tugging at the leash.  Both Anna and the wolf then turned their attention to Castiel.

“What the— Is this some kind of joke?” Castiel laughed in disbelief, “It’s like you’re asking permission or something…”

No sooner had he said than he heard a short bark that he knew wasn’t Anna’s.  He turned back to the wolf, eyeing it suspiciously.  It just stared back and tilted its head to the other side.  He hesitated going back to working on the door, but eventually did after a minute or two.  Every few minutes, he’d glance over his shoulder and see the wolf still in the same spot.  It might’ve shifted a little, but it remained by the fence post.  Anna whined several more times, bumping Castiel’s leg with her head before pulling her leash taut again.

“Animals are so weird…” Castiel noted.

Another bark from the wolf, this time sounding almost like it had an offended edge to it.  Castiel stopped for a moment, then shook his head.  He wasn’t even going to acknowledge the possibility a wild animal could understand him.  It was ridiculous.

He finished repairing the door about forty minutes later, stepping back and making sure it swung properly.  He checked the locks to make sure they worked in the frame and screwed them in.  The door still needed to either be painted or stained, preferably the latter.  However, he’d neglected to get either of those things at the hardware store.  There was a chance there might be something useful in the barn down below and if there was, then it would be stupid of him to go back to the store and buy more.  He glanced between Anna and the wolf, who was surprisingly still there.  Castiel rolled his eyes and untied Anna’s leash from the porch, but kept in his hand as he led her down to the barn with him. 

The wolf perked up then, standing up and watching them go.  Castiel watched the wolf for as long as he could before the hillside obscured his sight.  He couldn’t say he was entirely surprised when he saw the wolf come trotting around the side of the barn.  He wasn’t even scared at this point, if anything, he was just mildly annoyed now.  Didn’t this creature have anything better to do? 

Castiel kept Anna close as he searched through the barn, pointedly ignoring the wolf slowly creeping inside the barn.  He jumped when he turned around and saw it standing less than ten feet away, frozen midstep with its head lowered.  Anna took advantage of the wolf’s proximity and walked over to it, nuzzling her face against its neck.  It remained tense a minute longer, waiting to see if Castiel was going to do anything, before it relaxed and started returning Anna’s affections.  He stared at the two dogs in disbelief.

“I must be too sleep deprived,” Castiel muttered, “There is no way this happening.”

He turned his back, continuing his search for either paint or stain.  He found a can of a rich brown stain a few minutes later, probably the same one that had been used on the previous door.  At least that meant he already knew how it’d look on the house, for the most part; the wood of the door might be different than before and turn out a little different looking.  Both Anna and the wolf sat in the middle of the barn, just looking at Castiel.  He picked up her leash and started back out of the barn.  With the wolf now following just a step behind them.

It followed them all the way up the hill and was apparently feeling brave now because it even went right up to the porch with them.  Castiel was a little nervous, having the creature so close to both him and Anna while he had no way of protecting either of them.  But the more he thought about it, the more he began to think maybe the wolf wasn’t dangerous.  Castiel shook his head as he began staining the door and the frame.  It was always as soon as you think something’s not dangerous that it gets you.

By the time he finished staining the outside, he’d decided the inside could be done later.  He was too tired to finish it today.  He sealed off the stain, moved the can and brush off to the side and turned to Anna.  She was curled up against the wolf, napping and using its shoulder as a pillow.  The wolf took notice of Castiel’s staring and returned it with sleepy green eyes.  Castiel sighed, running a hand through his hair; he didn’t want to leave Anna outside with wolf while he went inside and took a nap himself.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Castiel asked.

The wolf perked its ears up and narrowed its eyes; Castiel could swear he thought it was trying to understand.  He quickly shoved the thought from his mind and dared to kneel down beside the dogs.  He reached out to shake Anna, never taking his eyes from the wolf.  Anna whined and stretched, then snuggled closer to the wolf.  Castiel scowled, flicking his gaze up at the wolf again.  Was that a smug look on its face?  Could wolves even have that expression?

He was about to try to wake Anna again when he his cell phone began vibrating in his pocket.  He hesitated answering it, flashing a quick, dirty look to the wolf.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cassie!” Gabriel chimed.

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I got a question for ya,” Gabriel started.

“Yes?”

“Do you happen t’know what kinda wolf’s hangin’ around?”

“I don’t— A wolf’s a wolf, what does it matter?”

“First off, little bro, no it ain’t and it does matter.  Second, I’m asking because I was thinkin’ that either maybe it’s not a wolf—“

“It is.”

“ _Maybe it’s not a wolf_ ,” Gabriel snapped, “But like a hybrid, like a German shepherd and a husky, or maybe one of those with a lil bit of wolf, and it’s actually someone’s dog.”

Castiel shifted his weight, it was possible; and it would explain the wolf’s sandy blond fur and green eyes.

“What is your other guess?” Castiel asked.

“Escaped from a zoo,” Gabriel stated simply.

Another possibility, but Castiel wasn’t aware of any nearby zoos.

“Or…”

“Or what?” Castiel deadpanned.

“Maybe it’s neither of those, maybe it’s some experiment or magical creature,” Gabriel grinned.

Castiel dropped his shoulders, glaring a bitchface at the wall directly ahead of him.

“Could be anything, y’know,” Gabriel added.

Castiel sighed, moving the phone away from his ear and tapped at the screen until the camera popped up.  He aimed it at the wolf and Anna, stepping to the side for a better shot, and took the picture.  He immediately sent it to Gabriel with a text saying _‘Does this look like a magical experiment to you?’_   He heard Gabriel’s phone chime with the message and waited a second for him to look at it.

“Aww, ain’t that adorable!”

“Gabriel.”

“Well, it kinda is, man,” Gabriel replied, “I guess it’s not an experiment or anything.  Probably someone’s dog or a zoo escapee.”

“I hope so, so whoever can take it back.”

“Just can’t let Anna have any fun, huh?”

Castiel opened his mouth to reply, but Gabriel cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.  I was just callin’ to ask you if you knew what it was, Kali suggested it last night.  I’ll talk to ya later, alright?”

“Alright.”

Castiel hung up on him, but before he put his phone back in his pocket, he looked at the picture again.  It was a good picture, maybe he’d keep it.  He stuffed his phone in his pocket and knelt down to try to wake Anna again, this time shaking her a little harder.  She resisted, shying away from him and feigning sleep.  Castiel scowled and leaned forward, gingerly wrapping his arms around her without bothering the wolf too much.  Despite that, the wolf still flattened its ears and curled its lips back slightly.  Anna wiggled in his arms as he lifted her up and all it took to get him moving faster was the wolf getting to its feet. 

Not even two seconds later, Castiel was slamming the door and bracing his back against it.  He sunk down and let go of Anna.  Of course, she immediately went to the window sill and peered outside.  Castiel could hear the soft clicking of the wolf’s claws on the porch as it paced around.  He glanced over at Anna and almost the same instant she started wagging her tail, those same claws were scratching at the door.  He stopped breathing, just listening to the sound of wood being marred not even three inches from his back.  He reached up and locked the door before making a quick run for his pistol.  It wasn’t like the wolf was going to be able to claw through the door, but just having the pistol made him feel safer.

The scratching stopped after a couple minutes and he breathed a sigh of relief.  Then he remembered the other door had been scratched up just before someone had forced it open.  He waited tensely, almost expecting some stranger to show up and force the door again for the creature.  A minute dragged on into what felt like an eternity, but nothing happened.  Castiel edged over the window, where Anna was still standing and watching outside, and peaked through.  The wolf was laying on the porch with its back turned and ears drooped; no one else was in sight.  Castiel relaxed and leaned against the wall, glancing between Anna and the wolf before sighing and starting off towards his room.

He set the gun on the nightstand and flopped onto his bed.  Within minutes, he was fast asleep; staying up all night and then working on repairing a door all day has that effect.  He slept soundly, not even giving the slightest acknowledgment when Anna came in and hopped up on the bed, nuzzling at his ankle.  She cocked her head from side to side, moving further up the bed and licked at Castiel’s ear.  He made a face of discontent at the feeling and turned his head away, but stayed asleep.  Anna jumped down off the bed and trotted back to the living room, resuming her place at the window sill.

The wolf was still lying on the porch and, for a moment, Anna let her ears and tail droop.  She gave a few short barks, just loud enough to be heard from the otherside of the glass, but not loud enough to wake Castiel.  The wolf perked up and glanced around quickly before getting up and coming back to the door, just out of Anna’s sight, due to the angle.  But she started wagging her tail at shifting shadow over the porch; even more so when the door handle began to jiggle.  When the door refused to open, the jiggling was replaced by thuds.  They grew harder and louder until small cracks began to splinter the new frame.  Several more heavy blows and the frame gave way, though it sustained less damage than the old one.

“Come.”              

Anna pranced excitedly over to the figure kneeling the doorway, nuzzling into his outstretched arms and licking at his face.  The man grinned and nuzzled his face between her ears, affectionately scratching his fingers around her neck.  He then stood up halfway, earning a curious look from Anna.

“Come.  Follow.”

And she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to make it a little longer, but then i decided i wanted to end it on a cliff hanger


	4. John Doe

Castiel woke up sometime later that night.  He would’ve liked to keep sleeping, but the growling in his stomach forced him to get out of bed.  He yawned and stretched as he made his way down the hall, through the living room and to the kitchen.  As he stood there going through his partially stocked pantry, he paused; something was wrong.  He closed the pantry, went back to the living room and could swear his heart stopped.

The backdoor was wide open and the brand new frame was cracked and splintered.  His heart started hammering in his chest as he took deep breathes to try to stay calm.

“Anna…?” Castiel called out.

There was no response.  He ran back to his room to check for her, then the three spare rooms, both bathrooms, all the hallways and closets.  She wasn’t inside the house.  Panic welled up inside Castiel as he returned to his room and grabbed his pistol off the nightstand.  He rifled through a few drawers, but then found a flash light and was running out of the house.  He didn’t even bother closing the door, it probably wouldn’t shut all the way.  He shined the flashlight around the backyard; nothing.  He ran around to the front yard; still nothing.  Castiel swallowed thickly and doubled back to the hill leading down to the barn.

“Anna!” Castiel yelled.

He shoved the barn doors open and searched through it, checking behind every empty crate and covered vehicle.  He even climbed up to the rafters to look, just on the off chance she might’ve found her way up there.  But she hadn’t, she wasn’t in the barn either.  Castiel turned and sat down on the rafters, feeling like he was going to be sick.  If she wasn’t anywhere on the property, there weren’t many other possibilities.  She could be wandering along the interstate somewhere, but he really hoped she wasn’t.  There weren’t many people on it ever, but the ones that were had a tendency to speed above the already high speed limit and drive recklessly.  He quickly pushed that thought from his mind; maybe she’d just crossed the interstate and was exploring the rocky hillside.  Or she might’ve gone further down the hill, to the sparse forest that covered the canyon floor.

Then he thought of the wolf.  The way she’d cuddled up to it, the way it followed and looked at them, how it had gotten irritated when Castiel took her away and then scratched up the door… Suddenly there was no doubt in Castiel’s mind, Anna was with the wolf.  But again, he was left wondering who in the hell had opened the door for the damned thing and where it had gone off to.  Castiel gritted his teeth, berating himself for not calling the police last night, or even earlier today, to report the break in.  Just like how he should’ve called the wildlife department about the wolf.  He should’ve known better.  He did know better.  He had just told himself shortly before to sleep that it was always when you started feeling safe in such a situation that that was when something bad happened.

He ran back up to the house, fuming with anger at himself, the wolf and whoever broke his door.  Again.  He called both the police and wildlife department, silently cursing himself.  He gave both of them just enough information for what they needed over the phone.  Within about forty-five minutes, a squad car was pulling into his driveway and an officer walking up to his door.

“Sheriff Jody Mills,” Sheriff Mills introduced, “You called about a break in?”

“Yeah, I did, uh…” Castiel started, “It happened not too long ago, but I was asleep and I didn’t hear anything.”

Sheriff Mills leaned to one side, looking past Castiel at the broken door still sitting open.  She quirked an eyebrow, clearly thinking the sound of the door breaking should’ve woken him up.  Before she could say anything about it, Castiel cut her off.

“It happened last night too, I just repaired it this afternoon and—“

“Wait, you had a break in last night too?” Sheriff Mills asked.

“Yes, but—“

“Why didn’t you report that then?”

“I don’t know.  Nothing was missing or damaged, except for the door, but that was easy enough for me to fix.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

“N-no, go ahead.”

Sheriff Mills nodded and walked past him over to the door.  She swung it back and forth a few times, it still moved easily enough.  But when she tried to shut it, Castiel was right.  It didn’t shut.  She looked over the cracked frame and down at the door handle, tilting her head and knitting her brows together at the sight of the scratches.

“Please tell me you called wildlife,” Sheriff Mills sighed.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Right after I called the police tonight.”

“Were these on the other door?  The one that was broken yesterday?”

“…Yeah,” Castiel admitted.

“You are either very brave or incredibly stupid…” Sheriff Mills murmured.

Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but stopped at the sound of another vehicle coming up his driveway; wildlife department.  When the man got to the door, before he even had a chance to introduce himself, Sheriff Mills was straightening up and spinning on her heels.

“Bobby Singer,” Sheriff Mills drawled, “Figures they’d send you.”

“Best man for the job,” Bobby replied, then turning to Castiel, “What’s the problem.”

“A wolf,” Castiel answered shortly.

“A wolf?” Bobby repeated, “Hate t’break it to ya, but wolves ain’t exactly common around here.”

“That’s…that’s what I’ve been told, but I’m sure this is a wolf.”

Castiel fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the picture of Anna and the wolf.  He showed it to Bobby, frowning slightly when Sheriff Mills crowded closer to get a look.  Bobby looked at the picture closer, fumbling to zoom in on it; touch-screens were not his forte.  He sighed and scowled at the picture, handing the phone back to Castiel.

“Yeah, definitely looks like a wolf,” Bobby said, “But not any wolf I’ve ever seen.  Probably some hybrid that got away from some place.”

“That’s what my brother suggested,” Castiel mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“What’s it been doin’?”

“Nothing, just— hanging around my house.  Last night it scratched up the door before someone broke it open, I’m pretty sure it decided to hang out inside for a while.  Then earlier today, it followed me and my dog around and took a nap on the porch with her—“

“So you took a picture instead of calling to report it?” Bobby asked incredulously.

“It wasn’t doing anything, so I wasn’t really all that worried,” Castiel defended, “Then I took Anna inside so I could go to sleep and it got irritated and started clawing up the door again.  Then someone broke it open again while I was sleeping and now it and my dog are gone.”

“That’s what y’get for being an idjit and not reporting it sooner,” Bobby grumbled, “I’ll see what I can do, but with all this wide open space… Can’t promise anything.  I doubt the thing just showed up ‘round here one day.”

Bobby moved past them, heading out the back door to do whatever it was he was going to do.  Sheriff Mills turned to Castiel with a sigh and scratching at her eye.

“I know you might think these questions are stupid, and I don’t blame you, but I gotta ask.”

“Alright…?”

“Do you know how close your closet neighbor is?” Sheriff Mills asked.

“Um, a mile or two, I think,” Castiel replied.

“Do they know you moved in here?”

“I don’t think so, I haven’t spoken to them.”

“Does anyone know you moved in here?”

“My brother and his girlfriend.  And a couple coworkers.”

“Would they have any reason to do…this?  Whatever it was they were trying to do here?”

“No, of course not,” Castiel snipped.

“Alright.  You didn’t touch the door knob after the break in, right?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll call someone to come dust it for finger prints and see if we can’t get a match,” Sheriff Mills said, “I’d do it myself, but I’m not properly trained for it.”

Castiel nodded as she walked back out to her car to call for someone to dust the door knob.  While she did, Castiel wandered out back to see what Bobby was doing.  Castiel made sure to make himself known as Bobby searched through a few of the plants near the fence, but wait to say anything until he straightened up and started back towards the front of the house.

“What’re you going to do?” Castiel asked.

“I’m thinkin’ of settin’ a few traps around the house, looks like it kept using the same routes,” Bobby answered, “’Course, I’m assuming it’ll come back.  I’ll put a few down below the barn too.  Maybe a couple cameras if the thing’s too crafty.”

“This is gonna be expensive, isn’t it…” Castiel muttered.

“Yeah, probably.  So, you better hope that thing comes back soon.”

Castiel tipped his head back with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.  He debated between following Bobby and going back to the house, but decided on the latter.  Sheriff Mills was idly pacing around the living room, glancing at few of Castiel’s things, as she waited for the person trained to do finger print dusting.  Castiel shifted uncomfortably, but before the situation had a chance to become awkward, Sheriff Mills received a call and excused herself.  He breathed a sigh of relief and sank down onto the couch, running his hands over his face and glancing back outside.

He must’ve ended up staring out the window longer than he thought because the next thing he knew, Sheriff Mills was back inside and trying to get his attention.  Beside her stood a younger, red-headed girl holding a laptop in her arms with a heavy looking messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

“Castiel, this is Charlotte—“

“Charlie,” Charlie corrected.

Sheriff Mills fixed her a look.

“Sorry, I just, uh…I prefer Charlie,” Charlie smiled awkwardly.

“Hopefully _Charlie_ can tell us who broke into your house,” Sheriff Mills continued.

Castiel nodded and waved halfheartedly towards the door.  Charlie set her laptop and bag down, then began going through the bag in search of what she needed.  He watched her with mild interest as she gathered up a pair of gloves, a small brush, a bag of powder and some kind of film he assumed would copy the finger prints.  She then pulled out a small scanner, attached it to her laptop and powered both of them up as she went to the door.  Charlie spent a few minutes dusting over the door knob, using only miniscule amounts of dust at a time.  She pressed the film the film to the door and gently pulled it away, carrying it like glass to the scanner.  She tossed the gloves to the side as the scanner read the prints and started typing away on the laptop.

Castiel stood up and walked over beside her, now more curious how this worked.  He glanced at Charlie a few times to make sure it was alright for him to watch; she didn’t seem to care.  Two lists of names and pictures flashed rapidly over the screen as she continued to type.  Castiel couldn’t even keep up with what was going on until the first list stopped; Castiel Novak. 

He couldn’t help but scowl at the screen.  Obviously he’d touched the door.  Charlie noticed and bit her lip to suppress a giggle.  Another minute or two went by before the second list stopped.  The second list showed a blank ‘anonymous’ picture and read ‘John Doe’ under the name.  Before he could say anything, Charlie got an oddly excited look on her face.

“Jody, it’s that John Doe again,” Charlie smiled.

“Oh really?”

“John Doe?” Castiel repeated, “How do you even know who she’s talking about?  Isn’t that the name for unidentified people?”

“It is,” Sheriff Mills nodded, “However, we have one constant John Doe that we keep a record of his activity under the same name.  We don’t have much information on him, but he’s been causing problems for years around here.”

“Why’s he so hard to catch?” Castiel asked.

“There’s nothing on him.  Absolutely nothing.  It’s like he just magically came into existence one day.  The best we’ve got is one grainy image of him running from someone’s property, that’s the only reason we know he’s a him.”

“And no one’s seen him otherwise,” Charlie added, “We just keep getting matching prints.”

Castiel stared at the two of them.  Were they really telling him that he’d been victimized by someone who couldn’t be caught?  He shook his head with a sigh and turned away from Charlie.  He found it hard to believe, that this day in age, it was so hard to catch someone.  He heard Charlie resume typing and figured she was probably adding this incident to John Doe’s long list of get-aways. 

“If it makes you feel any better, he usually doesn’t go for the same place twice,” Sheriff Mills said, “At least, not in such a short time span.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Castiel grumbled.

“Well, last time he went for one place more than once was when he got that image of him.  It was a while ago, granted, but maybe he’ll get a little careless again.”

“And what if he’s got what he wants?”

“Ain’t nobody know what that boy wants,” Bobby interrupted.

Castiel turned to face Bobby as he came back inside.

“Never takes anything.  He just likes to mess around and cause problems.”

“I’m guessing it was your property he got caught on?”

“Yeah.  Right after I moved my old salvage yard company out here.  Little punk kept playin’ around the wreckage yard, so I set up a few cameras,” Bobby said, “But I only got the one photo.”         

“Did you ever see him?”

“Quick glimpse here and there of part of him when he was hightailin’ it.  But if he’s daring enough to walk up to your door now, maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Castiel really didn’t find any comfort in the thought, but he tried not to let it show.  Sheriff Mills then gave him a lecture for not calling police sooner, as he expected she would at some point.  Charlie followed her out of the door, excitedly going on about the new case involving John Doe.  Bobby explained where the traps and handful of cameras were, explicitly telling Castiel not to touch any of them.  If the traps caught something, he was just to call Bobby; no matter what got caught.  He gave Castiel a small iPad connected to the cameras and showed him how to switch between views.  Most of the cameras were beside a trap, save for the one in the backyard watching Castiel’s porch.  He then told Castiel that the iPad screen would switch on if the cameras caught anything, sort of a way to notify him in case he wasn’t watching it like a hawk.  After that, Castiel was left alone.

He sank back down onto the couch with the iPad in his lap.  He boredly flicked through the views, half hoping one of them would give him something.  But, of course, they didn’t.  He put the iPad sleep and set it on the couch as he stood up and stalked off to his room.  He opened the window and listened intently for the howl that usually had the wolf running back to wherever it came from.  As he figured, there was nothing.  The wolf was probably already where it was supposed to be if it wasn’t here.  He groaned and flopped on his bed, burying his face in his pillow and slowly drifted off to sleep.  At this point, Castiel was hoping Anna was with the wolf and that it was keeping her safe from any of the other wildlife. 

Several minutes later, in the living room, the iPad flicked on.  If Castiel had waited a minute longer, he would’ve seen the wolf carefully skirting past the traps, eyeing them with distaste and almost glaring directly into the camera.  He would’ve seen Anna trotting along less carefully behind the wolf, having it yip at her when she got to close to something.  He would’ve seen the camera watching the porch get knocked from its perch and turned to face into the dirt and grass.

What he would not have seen was how Anna got back inside; let in by the same one who led her out in the first place.  However, a break in was not necessary this time; Castiel had forgotten to lock the door.

“Quiet.”

Anna cocked her head to the side.

“Go.  Quiet.”

She dropped her ears and tail, butting her head against the man’s leg as if to urge him inside.

“No.”

Anna whined and looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes.

“Quiet,” he repeated, “Come back tomorrow.  Promise.”

She wagged her tail a few times before trotting inside.  The man softly shut the door behind her, glancing over his shoulder and seeing Anna in the window sill watching him.  For a moment, he considered staying.  The distant howl reminded him that wasn’t a wise idea, but he scowled in defiance.  He remained where he was, crouched low and checking for any other cameras that might him before wandering into the yard just enough to see Castiel’s window.  It was open, but there were no lights on and he heard nothing coming from it.  Against his better judgment, he let a loose an ear-ringing howl in answer to the other.

Anna licked her lips, prancing back and forth at the window as the man came back to the door.  He opened it once more for her, but didn’t lead her away this time.  She sat down on the porch and waited a minute as the wolf settled down to a comfortable sleeping position before snuggling right up to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little longer chapter this time. whatchu guys think?


	5. Risky Business

The first thing Castiel did when he woke up the next morning was go straight to the living room, where he’d left the iPad.  But as soon as he stepped into the living room, he found the door open once again.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up; he was sure he’d shut it last night.  He’d just had police here last night and this ‘John Doe’ was brazen enough to come back the same night?

He rushed over to the door, immediately freezing when he stepped onto the porch.  Anna was right there, snuggled up to the wolf stretched out beside her.  He felt all his worry and anger rise up in his throat as he tensed up.

“Anna!”

Both Anna and the wolf flinched awake.  Anna lowered her head guiltily as she slunk over to him, looking up at him with apologetic eyes.  The wolf sat up, scooting away a little bit, and kept its eyes on the wood of the porch.  Castiel’s anger subsided quickly as he knelt down and brought Anna closer to him, rubbing and scratching her neck and head.  She licked his face in return, pawing at his leg and twisting in his hold.  He followed her gaze back to the wolf, who dared to glance up for a moment before returning its stare to the porch.  Castiel scowled at the creature, standing up again.

“C’mon, Anna.  Inside,” Castiel said.

He gently pushed her with the side of his foot, urging her to her feet and walking inside.  He glanced at the wolf one more time before following her inside.  Castiel shut the door behind himself, making sure it was shut all the way _and_ locked this time.  Anna stared at him before looking at the door and back to him, like he’d forgotten something.  He was fairly certain she meant he’d left the wolf outside.  He had no intention of letting it in the house.  Castiel couldn’t help but think to himself that Anna should be thankful he’d let it stay on the porch instead of chasing it off or something.

He dropped down on the couch, picking up the iPad and pulling up footage from last night.  He skipped back to just before he’d gone to bed and then played it with a slight fast-forward.  It didn’t take long for Anna and the wolf to appear.  He knitted his brows together as he watched the wolf avoid, and help Anna avoid, all of Bobby’s traps and the strange way it glared directly at each camera that caught them.  When he saw the last camera tipped, Castiel set the iPad down and went to the window.  Just as the iPad showed, the camera watching the porch was currently lens down on the ground.  His eyes flicked down to the wolf for a second before he pushed away from the window, rubbing his hands down his face. 

He sighed and turned to Anna.  Her claws were caked with dirt, dirt that dusted all the way up her legs, a couple leaves caught in her fur, a twig…  Castiel rubbed his hands over his face once more, this time in annoyance.  He ushered Anna towards the bathroom, following her and filling up the bathtub.  It took him probably a good twenty minutes or so to scrub all the dirt and filth from her fur.  He didn’t have the energy to dry her off completely, instead he decided a quick rub down with a towel was good enough.  It was warm enough outside now that she’d be completely dry in a short time.  He shooed her out of the bathroom to take a shower himself.

When he was done and dressed, he started for the kitchen to get breakfast.  He paused walking through the living room, seeing that the iPad had flicked on with activity.  He went over to the device and pulled up the camera that had seen something.  The one that had been laying lens down on the ground was now standing back upright and looking at the porch; there was no wolf.  He brought up and replayed the other cameras; they showed it trotting down the steep hillside, avoiding the traps just as easily as before.

Castiel set the iPad back down, considering calling Bobby and telling him that he’d need better laid traps than this.  He shrugged, deciding it could wait until after breakfast.  The wolf was gone, for now, Anna was back home and there was no sign of John Doe.  That’s all that mattered to him at the moment.  He ate breakfast and put the dishes away, fishing his phone out of his pocket and dialing the number for the wildlife department.

“Missoula Wildlife, Bobby Singer speakin’.”

“Hello, Mr. Singer, this is Castiel No—“

“Ah, right, Casteel.”

“Castiel,” Castiel corrected.

“The wolf get caught?” Bobby ignored.

“Uh, no.  That’s what I was calling about.”

“Sometimes it takes a couple days, nothin’ to worry about.”

“I’m aware of that, but I think you may still need to come out here and disguise them better.”

“And why’s that?” Bobby huffed.

“Because— Well, the wolf saw them and walked right around every single one and glared at each camera watching the trap.  It even knew to keep Anna, my dog, away from them.”

He heard Bobby grumble something on the other end of the line, before he actually spoke again.

“Alright, well, I’ll come back soon as I get a minute and see what I can do ‘bout the traps.”

“Thank you.”

“Mmhmm.”

With that, Castiel hung up and went to the living room again.  Out of idle curiosity, he flicked through the camera views again, but there was nothing.  He tossed the device aside as Anna came into the room.  She hopped up on the couch and sniffed curiously at the iPad as Castiel rubbed her head.  He checked the time and figured he should probably start thinking about leaving for work soon.  A plus side of working at the Roadhouse was that he didn’t have to wear any kind of uniform, saving him from having to get changed before and after each shift.  He got up and went through the house, making sure all the windows and doors were shut and locked.  Even when they were, Castiel felt like it wasn’t good enough.  Really, it wasn’t.  That hadn’t stopped John Doe from breaking the back door open.  Twice.  Castiel didn’t count the third time, only because he knew he’d forgotten to lock it.

Castiel looked around the room before his eyes settled on a heavy set of chest of drawers on the other side of the room.  It had been hard to get it into the house, just because of its weight alone.  Now that it had been refilled with its contents, it was sure to weigh even more.  Still, Castiel walked over to it and braced himself.  It took a considerable amount of effort to move it, and Castiel wasn’t weak by any means.  After the better part of twenty minutes, the chest of drawers sat against the back door.  He was glad he’d changed the way the door opened when he replaced it; otherwise this would’ve been completely pointless.

He thought about barricading the other doors, but a lack of spare time now and the fact that John Doe had only broken through the back door had him leaving things the way they were.  He quickly made sure Anna had food and water before leaving, double-checking the he relocked the front door before leaving.

The Roadhouse was a little busier than usual tonight.  It wasn’t packed, not even close, but it was busy enough so that Castiel left boredly cleaning everything.  Ash and Jo seemed to enjoy the rush, since it gave them something to do for once.  Despite the increase of patrons, Castiel still found himself getting distracted.  He couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.  He could hardly wait for the end of his shift, which was, unfortunately, a nine hour shift.  When it was finally over, Castiel hurried out of the bar, giving Ash and Jo a quick goodbye.  He sped back home, grateful no one ever patrolled this stretch of highway.  He unlocked the front door and strode in, immediately going to the back door.

The chest of drawers had been moved.

They sat about a foot and a half, maybe two feet, away from the door.  The doorknob was once again broken and the door cracked from where it hit the chest of drawers.  Something on the floor caught his attention Castiel moved closer, kneeling down and inspecting it.  Claw marks marred the floor between the door, its frame and the chest of drawers; something had scrambled to get it.  But there was no evidence of it trying to get back out.  Castiel snatched the phone out of his pocket and called Bobby.

“Missoula Wildlife, Bobby Singer speakin’,” Bobby groaned.

“Mr. Singer—“

“Castiel, caught me right b’fore I left…” Bobby grumbled, “I reset some of the traps while you were gone, apparently.  Can’t hardly see ‘em now.”

“That’s great, but, uh… I-I think it’s inside my house.”

“…What?”

“I locked the doors and barricaded the back door, but it looks like it still got inside—“

“Is it still there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Go back outside your house and shut the doors, call Sheriff Mills too and wait.”

“Alright.”

Castiel did just that.  It took a minute to get ahold of the sheriff, but once he did, she was on her way.  As he waited, Castiel debated going back inside the house.  Anna was still inside, and while the wolf had done no harm as far as he knew, he still didn’t want her inside.  He dared to unlock the door and open it again, poking his head inside and whispering harshly for Anna.  He tried calling for her for several minutes before he was suddenly yanked back by the collar.

“Boy, the hell are you doin’?” Bobby snapped.

“I’m sorry, I just—“

“Unbelieveable, idjit…”

Bobby pushed Castiel aside and opened the door.  He was carrying a short pole with what looked like a noose on the end in one hand.  In the other hand was a small tranquilizer gun.  Castiel swallowed thickly as he went inside.  A minute later, he heard Sheriff Mills pull up and walk up beside him.

“Singer go inside already?” Sheriff Mills asked.

Castiel nodded.

“Okay, just wait out here.”

Castiel nodded again.  Sheriff Mills went inside with her gun already drawn.  Castiel couldn’t believe what a nightmare this whole thing had turned into.  He’d moved out here for a more relaxed and peaceful life; this was worse than anything that had happened when he lived in Seattle.  Sheriff Mills shut the door behind herself, leaving Castiel to peer through a window and watch with a limited view.  Both her and Bobby moved the chest of drawers back into place, flush against the back door, then moved through the house.

A minute or two went by before Castiel heard the sheriff yell for Bobby.  Just going by the muffled sound, she didn’t sound distressed or anything.  Silence followed for a few more minutes before Castiel could hear footsteps coming closer.  Sheriff Mills opened the door and leaned out, looking somewhat flustered.

“What’s going on…?” Castiel asked.

“We, uh…. we found the wolf.”

“But…?”

“It might be a minute before we can actually subdue him,” Sheriff Mills replied carefully.

“What exactly does that mean?”

“I’ll, um, I’ll let Bobby tell ya that afterwards,” Sheriff Mills smiled.

Before Castiel could say anything more, he was cut off by the sound of something being knocked over.  Followed by a short burst from the tranquilizer, Bobby’s swearing and two more shots from the tranquilizer.

“Shit!  Jody, here he comes!” Bobby shouted.

Sheriff Mills whipped around with her gun ready as the wolf came running into the living room, skidding to a halt at seeing the back door shut.  It crouched low to the ground, looking around the room frantically before its eyes settled on the front door.  Bobby ran in a few seconds after, tranquilizer ready and pole nowhere to be seen.  The wolf moved its eyes slowly between Sheriff Mills and Bobby, clearly weighing its options.  Bobby signaled something to Sheriff Mills, something to indicate he was going to shoot, just before he pulled the trigger.  As fast as the dart was fired, the wolf dodged it again.  It charged straight for the front door, scaring both Castiel and Sheriff Mills, who fired three shots at it.  If it was hit, it didn’t show it.  The wolf was unfazed by the gunfire, though that didn’t surprise Castiel.

It barreled past Sheriff Mills, knocking her into the door.  Castiel stumbled back in the same instant to get out of the creature’s way as it frantically tore around the corner of the house and ran for the fence.  Castiel looked up through the windows just in time to see it jump the fence and disappear into the trees and bushes.

“Y’alright, Sheriff?” Bobby asked.

He offered a hand to help her back up, which she accepted.

“Yeah, I’m good.  That is just— a big dog.”

“No kiddin’,” Bobby mumbled.

“Sheriff Mills?  Why did you say it would take a minute to subdue it?” Castiel asked.

“Well, I said I’d let Bobby tell ya that one.”

She turned to Bobby with a forced smile, although there seemed to be a trace of amusement behind it.  Bobby scowled at her and sighed, returning the tranquilizer to its holster.

“Well, I’ll keep it short and sweet then,” Bobby huffed, “You might wanna think about takin’ your dog to a vet and getting’ her checked for pups.”

Castiel stared at Bobby.

“I…what?”

“Yep.  Your dog and the wolf got a little frisky, apparently.”

Bobby only waited a second for a reaction before excusing himself, muttering something about how long he’d been working for the wildlife department and never caught any animals in that situation.  Likewise, Sheriff Mills excused herself as well, telling Castiel to call again if anything happened.  He stood outside a minute longer before going back inside and gently closing the door behind himself.  He shook his head, telling himself Bobby didn’t know Anna was thirteen years old.  She couldn’t have puppies anymore, she was too old…wasn’t she?

The question didn’t sit well with Castiel.  He opened the browser on his phone and immediately looked it up.  No place was giving him a straight answer, just that owners and breeders stopped breeding their dogs around five or six; not how long a dog was capable of having puppies.  He tried revising his search and barely got any more information.   At best, he learned it was a significantly low possibility.  When he stuffed his phone back in his pocket, he saw Anna looking at him from the hallway, tilting her head.  He couldn’t even look at her for more than two seconds before he thought about what her and the wolf had done and his skin crawled.

Anna tried a few times to get Castiel to pet and play with her, but he just couldn’t get the thought out of his head.  After a while, Anna stopped trying and went to the window.  A few minutes of seeing nothing, she trotted off to another window; then another.  The third window gave her the view of the less steep hill leading down the barn.  She wagged her tail and yipped excitedly; Castiel knew the wolf was back.  He grabbed the iPad and flicked through the cameras until he found the one that had the image of the wolf.  The trap was nowhere in sight, just like Bobby had said, and Castiel found himself hoping the wolf would step in the trap.

But just like before, it could sense something was up.  It eyed its surroundings carefully, taking cautious and tentative steps forward.  Every couple of steps, it would sniff around.  It must’ve caught sight of the trap because suddenly the wolf was moving around what looked like an empty space.  A few seconds later, he could hear the wolf on the porch.  It bumped against the door a couple times and scratched at it before its head appeared in the window.  Castiel was unnerved by how its eyes seemed to lock onto him like he was a problem before it disappeared from the window.  Castiel sat stone still, waiting tensely for something to happen. 

Then there was a bump and scratch at the front door, also followed up by the wolf popping up I the window and looking at Castiel.  Anna trotted up to the front door, taking the wolf’s attention off Castiel.  She wagged her tail at the sight of it, prancing around a little before she started off down the hallway; the wolf disappeared from the window.  Castiel tossed the iPad aside and ran after Anna, catching her by the collar before she got too far.

“Ah, ah, no.  You are not going to help that thing in,” Castiel grumbled.

Anna whined and tugged against his hold, but he didn’t let go.  Instead, he led her back to his room and shut the door.  He flopped down on the bed, ignoring her whimpering and pawing at the door.  At some point, she must’ve gotten the message because she hopped on the bed and curled up at his feet.  Anytime he looked at her, he was met with sad puppy eyes and forced to look away.  Things carried on like that for a while until he heard the wolf’s howl.  He sat up and peered through the window, seeing it retreat back to wherever it stayed. 

“Good,” Castiel grumbled.          

He settled back down, not even bothering to change his clothes before he went to sleep.  Anna groaned and stretched out, but also went to sleep soon after.  Nothing more happened for the rest of the night, which Castiel was thankful for.  He woke up early the next morning to search for vets to take Anna to before work.  Even if the possibility of her being pregnant was almost nonexistent, he still wanted her checked.  Plus, there was a possibility she could’ve caught something while she was gone.  Almost as soon as he found a veterinary office, he ushered Anna out to the truck. 

She was excited for the car ride until she realized where they were going; she’d never been a fan of the vet.  She dragged her paws as he led her in, sulked by his legs as he filed out paperwork for her and laid on his feet while he sat and waited.  It didn’t take long for Anna to be called in for her checkup.  The vet, Amelia Richardson, was quick and affectionate with Anna.  She had only a few questions for Castiel about her, mostly about her diet and exercise.  She went through Anna’s file and decided a couple shots were in order, not for anything major though; just biannual shots.  She took a sample of Anna’s blood to conduct a few tests on and told Castiel they’d be done by the end of the day.  Maybe sooner since the veterinary lab wasn’t particularly busy that day.

He really wanted to know right away, but he understood.  He took Anna back home and dropped her off before making sure the doors were all locked; and some extra weight on the chest of doors sitting in front of the back door.  Everything was as good as he could leave it.  Castiel reluctantly left for work; he had another nine hour shift that day.  After he was gone, Anna paced around the house anxiously.  The sight of the iPad lighting up with activity caught her attention and she went over to it.  She watched the image of the wolf and turned her head back and forth, pawing at the screen, not fully understanding it.  In doing so, she accidently swiped it to the next camera; the one watching the porch.

She back up from the iPad as it showed the house moving and the ground coming closer.  She pawed at the screen more, only successful in changing views and then confusing the device.  A tap at the window drew her attention away from it.  She barked happily, jumping off the couch and running over to the window.  The man smiled at her before moving out of sight to try to the door.  He’d barely managed to get it opened yesterday.  Opening the door today was no easier, though it wasn’t any more difficult.  Anna barked and led him around to another door, one that let into the kitchen.

He tried the handle a few times, obviously finding it locked.  He studied the door for a minute, tilting his head to one side, before grabbing hold of the handle and bracing as he ripped it back.  The frame cracked and the handle broke, but that was all the more damage he caused.  Anna ran up to him, jumping up at him until he kneeled down for her.  He rubbed between her ears, scratching down her neck and back.  He pulled her close in a bear hug, burying his face in the side of her neck and breathing deep.  He paused and perked up, looking at her and smiling wide.

“Pups.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't even know with the title of the chapter, it was the only thing i thought of. since a few people have said it now, if you're feeling uncomfortable with the events of the chapter, then please know that 1) dean never engaged (still sounds weird) anna as a human. and 2) the direction of the story is changing course in the next chapter. not because of everyone's comments, this was always the plan because this^ isn't what you think, I promise. There is no bestiality in this fic. keep with the story and your answer will come.  
> ANYWAYS. comments, thoughts, feels?


	6. Exposure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um...i'm gonna go ahead and TW this chapter for character death and sad things. if you wanna skip most of the sad/depressing things, but still get the gist of it, read until "things carried on that way until about mid-august" then hit ctrl+f "september". if you don't want sad/depressing things, don't read this chapter and wait for the next update. you'll pick up what happened and everything is uphill after this.

To say that Castiel was worried about Anna would be putting it mildly.  Dr. Richardson had explained to him that this was going to be far from easy for Anna.  With a heavy heart, he’d tentatively asked about abortion, but Dr. Richardson had said that would be just as risky for Anna as having the pups.  Castiel didn’t know if he was relieved or not at that; he really didn’t want to take away the lives of puppies before they’d had a chance.  She advised him to bring Anna in every week and a half to two weeks for checkups and keep her on bed rest as best he could.

Of course, there was only so much he could; especially when he had long shifts at the Roadhouse.  And for the first two weeks, every single time he left, he came back to a broken in door.  Sheriff Mills was doing the best she could, but as both her and Bobby had told him, John Doe was clever.  A handful of times Castiel had caught the wolf inside his house, but it was never aggressive.  In fact, it seemed to be doting on Anna like it understood the situation.  When Castiel told Sheriff Mills about how often it kept ending up inside his house, she figured the wolf must belong to John Doe.  That was the only explanation for the repeated break ins that never resulted in stolen property.  It didn’t change the fact that it was extremely odd.

After about three weeks had past, curiosity got the better of Castiel.  He wanted to know what the wolf was, since it apparently was not a normal one.  John Doe would be the only one with an answer, but, of course, no one ever caught him.  So he’d decided that he could just take a snip of fur from the wolf and have it tested.  It was a simple enough plan and the wolf never objected to Castiel being near.  Until Castiel pulled out a pair of scissors and snipped a tuft of fur off the end of its tail.  It had looked downright offended and then angry when Castiel had done that. 

It— _He_ glowered at Castiel everytime he saw him and shifted away from him until the tuft grew back.  That also happened to be around the same time he finally got a response from Charlie about the lab results.

“So I have good news and bad news, what do you wanna hear first?” Charlie asked.

“The good news, I suppose.”

“The results were inconclusive.”

“What?”

“Whatever that thing is, it’s not in the database of known animals,” Charlie replied.

“How is that good news?” Castiel asked in disbelief.

“Well, because of the bad news…”

“What’s the bad news?”

“So it couldn’t match that animal to anything in the database, but it did bring up the closest DNA match…” Charlie drawled.

“And that is?” Castiel pressed.

“The closest match is, um…well apparently it’s a dire wolf.”

“A dire wolf?”

“Yep.  Those giant, prehistoric wolves.  I never got to see the one hangin’ around your house, but Jody— Sheriff Mills told me it was pretty darn big.”

“I— Yeah, I guess it is, but a _dire wolf_?  Not like, I don’t know, a timber wolf?”

“Nope.  Database says dire wolf and the database never lies,” Charlie said simply.

Castiel opened his mouth to say something, something along the lines of ‘why is a dire wolf even in the database?’, but then shut it and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Charlie asked if there was anything else he needed to know and said goodbye when he said he didn’t need anything.  He stood still a moment longer, staring at the phone in his hand and working his jaw side to side, before setting off to find wherever Anna and the wolf had settled.

He found them laying on his bed, the wolf curled around Anna with his head laying gently on her hip, near her stomach.  Castiel frowned, not at the wolf, but at the database’s suggestion.  This thing was not a dire wolf, as big as it was.  Castiel sat down on the bed beside them, earning a wary side-eyed glare from the wolf.  He ignored and reached forward to rub Anna’s head.  She rolled over and lifted her head enough to lick at Castiel’s hand; the movements clearly annoying the wolf.  Castiel couldn’t help the small smug grin on his face.  He ran his hand down Anna’s neck and even dared to pat the wolf on the head.  The only thing he did was look at Castiel curiously.  Castiel just rolled his eyes and let them be, he had to go get cleaned up for work.

When he left, he didn’t even bother locking the doors.  Clearly, it wasn’t doing him any good.  At the Roadhouse, Jo immediately bounced up to him, excited about something.

“Is there something you need…?” Castiel asked.

“Yes, well, not ‘need’, but uh… My mom mentioned your dog was having puppies—”

Castiel paused and thought for a moment— Right, he had mentioned something to Ellen about it a few days ago.

“And I was wondering if maybe I could adopt one?” Jo asked sweetly, “I could pay you, if you want.”

“I— I honestly hadn’t thought about what to do with the puppies,” Castiel answered, “I don’t see why not.”

Jo squealed in excitement and threw her arms around Castiel, catching him off guard.  She skipped off, probably to tell Ellen, and left Castiel to his work.  His shift passed easily enough, just enough patrons to keep him busy.  One of the patrons being Bobby Singer.  He asked Castiel about the traps, cameras and the wolf.  Bobby was a little surprised to learn that the traps still hadn’t caught the wolf, but Castiel had basically given up on trapping and had been considering asking Bobby to take them back for a while now.  They weren’t doing any good and Castiel didn’t want to continue to pay for them.  Bobby shrugged it off, taking a drink from his beer and telling Castiel he’d come by the next day to remove them. 

When Castiel came home, he found Anna lazing on the couch and the wolf gone.  Perhaps more importantly, the wolf was gone and there were no broken doors.  Castiel was beyond relieved at that, he wouldn’t have to spend a large chunk of his free time repairing a door again.  He sat down on the couch beside Anna, scratching her ear.

“Maybe I shouldn’t lock the doors at all, hm?” Castiel hummed.

He patted her on the head and went to make dinner, all the while actually considering leaving his doors unlocked.  He glanced outside, wondering if the wolf would come back for the night or not.  He sat down with his dinner, only half-heartedly pushing Anna’s head away when she tried to take his food.  But he did let her lick the plate.  The rest of the night was uneventful and had Castiel going to bed a little earlier than normal.

Of course, going to bed earlier had him wake up earlier.  He trudged down the hallway, not wanting to be awake this early.  As he stood in the kitchen, he felt like something was wrong.  He stood there thinking for a moment before walking quietly to the kitchen window and looking outside; nothing.  Then he heard the door knob of the back door twisting and the door swinging open.  Castiel scrambled and immediately ran around the corner, heart pounding at the thought of intruder that was more than likely John Doe.

However, he was greeted by the sight of the wolf standing in the open door.  Castiel gaped a few times before running past the wolf and out to the backyard.  He turned around frantically, in search of any sign someone was there.  But there was nothing.  Castiel grimaced and went back inside, only to find the wolf nosing through cabinets in search of food.

“What, am I gonna have to feed you too?”

The wolf perked up at him, wagging his tail a few times before returning to his search.  Castiel rolled his eyes, making a mental note that he should pick up extra dog food or maybe raw meat, given this was a wolf.  Castiel moved around the wolf and made his breakfast, eating it hurriedly before the wolf got the same idea Anna had when Castiel had food.  He wouldn’t dare push a wolf away. 

Later in the day found Castiel back at the veterinary office for Anna’s checkup.  It was at this point that Dr. Richardson finally asked about the dog who had gotten Anna pregnant.  Castiel shifted, biting back the snarky response of ‘a dire wolf apparently’.  Instead, he told her he wasn’t sure what kind of dog it was, only that it was a large breed.

“Why does that matter?” Castiel asked.

“Well, it looks like the pups are a little bigger than normal.  Not by a lot,” Dr. Richardson assured, “But if could make things more…interesting.”

“And by interesting, you mean complicated.”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Dr. Richardson admitted.

He asked what he could do to make it less complicated, but Dr. Richardson only repeated what she’d told him before; lots of bed rest, properly fed, little excitement…  Castiel sighed and rubbed his face, looking at Anna with concern.  She simply looked back at him without a shred of concern.   

He took her back home and, unsurprisingly, the wolf was waiting on the front porch.  It was at this point it became a regular thing to come home and find the wolf either waiting for him to return with Anna, find them cuddled up somewhere or find him exploring around the house.  Castiel had essentially, and not so willingly, adopted John Doe’s wolf.  There’d been a few moments, mostly in the early mornings, that Castiel had nearly caught John Doe.  He always heard the door knob turning, the door opening or saw a shadow, but he never actually caught John Doe.  Bobby was right, the guy was very clever and crafty.

Things carried on that way until about mid-August.  The wolf’s appearances became dramatically less frequent, though Castiel suspected that may have something to do with the hot weather.  When the wolf did show up, it stayed for a full day or two before disappearing for several days.  As much as he didn’t want the creature around when he’d first moved out here, he’d started to like it and actually found himself missing the wolf’s presence; though not nearly as much as Anna.  In the stretch of days when the wolf wasn’t around, it was like she fell into depression.  She didn’t move much, didn’t eat much and just looked at Castiel with a mix of sadness and boredom.

At Anna’s next checkup, Dr. Richardson even took notice of her depression.  The only advice she could give him was to keep the sire of her pups around.  He couldn’t tell her he had no idea where the wolf was or where it went; he just simply nodded in agreement.  He hoped it would be waiting on the front porch when he got home, but the creature was nowhere to be seen.  He brought Anna into the house and laid her down on the bed, cursing and hoping for the wolf to come back.  He brought in Anna’s food and water bowls and left them on the bed, not worried about spills, and went out into the backyard. 

He ducked under the split rail fence and cautiously started down the steep hill the wolf favored.  The only reason he didn’t take the less steep hill leading to the barn was because he wasn’t sure where the wolf went and that hill didn’t have well tread paths.  He followed the winding path downwards, stumbling and nearly falling several times.  He was forced to stop his descent when the hill became too steep for him.  He cursed silently at the wolf again and clambered his way back up.  He picked small leaves and twigs from his clothes as he marched back inside the house and went to check on Anna immediately.  She perked up slightly in hopes that it was the wolf coming into the room, but upon seeing Castiel, she dropped her head with a sigh.  Seeing her so sad was beginning to really tear him up inside.

Ellen gave him shorter shifts at Roadhouse, understanding and wanting him to be able care for Anna.  Especially since the end of August on him, which meant Anna would be giving birth soon.  He’d been panicking and worrying over her constantly for days, calling Dr. Richardson and asking her what to do in any possible situation.  She’d stayed patient with Castiel, answering all his questions and told him if he could, it would probably be best to bring her to the vets again until she had her pups.  He didn’t hesitate at that, he brought her in that night.  He’d asked if he could stay the night, but unfortunately, that wasn’t allowed.

He came back first thing in the morning; nothing had changed.  He didn’t know if he should be thankful for that or not, but he stayed until he had to go to work.  Ellen, Jo and Ash could see the concern and worry written all over his face.  He kept getting lost in his thoughts, resulting in him absently cleaning the same object for a few minutes longer than necessary.  Because of his distractions, they didn’t let him do much else other than clean.  Just as Ellen was about to send him home early, Castiel’s phone rang in his pocket.  Normally, she’d give any of them a hard time for talking on the phone when they were supposed to be working, but she made an exception in this case.

“Hello, Castiel?” Dr. Richardson assumed.

“Yes?” Castiel replied.

“I— I think you should back to the office.”

“Why?  What’s wrong?”

“I don’t believe that’s something to discuss over the pho—“

Castiel’s heart dropped and he didn’t even listen to the rest of her sentence.  His phone was shoved in his pocket and he was gone from the Roadhouse in less than a minute.  He had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel the entire way.  Castiel arrived at the vets almost fifteen minutes faster than it normally took him to get there.  The second he walked in through the doors, a nurse pulled him aside and led him into another room away from the lobby.  She told him to wait for Dr. Richardson, that she would explain, and thankfully it wasn’t more than a minute before she came up to him.

“What’s going on?” Castiel demanded.

“There’s been a complication, I’m afraid,” Dr. Richardson started.

“Is Anna alright?”

“Castiel… I— This is a part of my job that I hate, but… I advise that you consider what you would like,” Dr. Richardson averted her gaze to just over Castiel’s shoulder, “What you would like have done with Anna in the event that—“

“No,” Castiel interrupted, “No, this is— this is a veterinary hospital!  You have to be able to do something.”

“We are doing the best we can, Castiel, but this is a difficult situation and the labor is taking a very heavy toll on Anna.  That combined with her depression, and resulting malnourishment, she’s on a very fine line at the moment.”

Castiel stared at her helplessly and breathlessly.  Dr. Richardson bit her lip and glanced at the floor before looking back up at him.

“I promise you, we are doing what we can to keep her with us,” Dr. Richardson spoke softly, “I can give you a moment alone here, if you’d like.”

Castiel nodded numbly, sinking into a nearby chair.  He cradled his head in his hands, blinking hard and breathing deep in an effort to stay calm.  He’s not sure how long has passed, but it couldn’t have been more than forty-five minutes before he heard Dr. Richardson approaching.  He snapped his head up and, judging from the expression on her face, he was doing a terrible job at keeping himself together.  She took in a deep breath and straightened her posture.

“Castiel.  I’m sorry,” Dr. Richardson murmured.

That was it.  Those three words were all it took for him to cave.  He dropped his head to hide the tears spilling over, digging his fingers into his skull and steeling every muscle.  Dr. Richardson blinked back tears of her own, reminding herself she needed to professional; at least for a little while longer.  She sat down in the chair beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I know this isn’t something you want to hear—“

“Then don’t,” Castiel choked.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to,” Dr. Richardson said, “Anna…didn’t make it.  Neither did any of the pups.”

Castiel’s body gave a single, hard convulsion.

“Two were still born and the third…passed minutes after birth.  Anna passed shortly thereafter.  I can give you more time to decide, but we need to know what you’d like to do with the bo— with them,” Dr. Richardson corrected.

Castiel wiped the tears from his face and took a few deep breaths, but he didn’t look up.

“What…what are my options?” Castiel forced out.

“The first, and cheapest, is we send them home with you for burial.  The second is cremation.  And third is that we keep them.”

She decided not to add what they would do, cremation and disposal of ashes.  She folded her hands in her lap as she waited for his answer.  Castiel took several more deep breaths, wiping his face again in another attempt to calm himself.

“I’ll, um, t-the first one,” Castiel mumbled.

“Alright, I’ll let the surgeons know.”

She gave him another reassuring touch on the shoulder before leaving him again.  He lifted his head slightly, just enough his mouth with interlaced fingers, almost like a prayer.  A few more minutes went by before a nurse walked up to him and asked him to follow her to the desk for payments.  When he finished, he turned around and was met with two other nurses with their arms full; Castiel nearly buckled at the sight.

“We’ll help you out,” one said gently.

Castiel swallowed thickly and led them out to his truck.  He couldn’t bear to look as they set the caskets inside his truck, instead rubbing his eyes and fighting back tears.

The drive home was the most careful Castiel had ever driven in his life.  He just knew if he went around a corner even a sliver too fast and any of the caskets shifted, he would break down on the spot.  When he got home, he sat in his truck for a while, occasionally glancing around for the wolf.  If he saw it, he’d probably run straight for it and…well, he didn’t have much of a plan for that.  But it wouldn’t end well, the wolf had abandoned Anna and as far as Castiel cared, that was the cause of her death.  Yes, she was old and the pregnancy took a heavy toll and was obviously the cause, but Castiel was going to blame the wolf for everything.

He carried the caskets, one by one, inside the house and set them gently on table; the floor would be absolute injustice.  He walked down to the barn and searched out until he found a shovel before coming back.  He stood in the backyard for a few minutes, deciding on a burial spot and resisting the urge to sit down and bury his face in his hands.  He decided on just below the kitchen window, just to the right of the back porch, and started digging.

Hours ticked by before he’d dug four graves.  Castiel tossed the shovel aside and went back inside, hesitating as he stood at the table.  He told himself not to, but he reached for Anna’s casket and opened it anyways.  They’d wrapped in her in a light blanket, kept wrapped by a rosary.  Castiel closed his eyes and shut the casket again.  He lifted it and carried her outside, struggling as he lowered her in.  He followed suit with the pups, though he didn’t look at them.  He sat at the foot of the graves for a while, until the sun was low in the sky, before he finally picked up the shovel again.

 

From that day on, all the days seemed to just blend together.  He had gotten better, Jo had been persistent in cheering him up.  But still, August became September, September became October and not once had the wolf come back.  He spent every day since then cursing the damned beast and gone back to locking his doors. 

Then November began and he saw it from the upstairs window.  Standing at the fence line with his bowed, just like when it had first come around.  Castiel glared through the window, watching as it glanced around.  Just before it looked up to Castiel’s window, Castiel was stalking out of his room and down the hall.  At the sound of the door knob being jiggled, Castiel ran for the door and threw it open, ready to yell at the wolf.  But there wasn’t a wolf, there was a man; a naked man.  Castiel’s jaw nearly came unhinged as the man just stared at him like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“What the— Who— Who the hell are you?!” Castiel gaped, “What the _fuck_ are you doing?!”

The man opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again in thought, tilting his head to the other side.

“Hey!  Answer me, before I call the cops,” Castiel growled.

He was going to call the cops anyway and hardly wait for a response.  He spun on his heels, storming over to his cell phone on the couch.

“Wait.”

Castiel froze at the man’s voice.  He tentatively turned around to face the man again, his brain connecting the dots that this was probably John Doe.

“Ah-nuh?”

“…What?”

“Ah-Anna?” the man repeated.

Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“What do you want with Anna?” Castiel seethed.

“Where i-is Anna?”

The man tilted his head to the otherside and began fidgeting his fingers nervously.  Castiel’s eyes scanned over him suspiciously.  He was taller and definitely more muscled than Castiel, freckled eyes, dirty blond hair and deep green eyes that reminded him of— No, that was a coincidence.

“Why do you want to know where she is?” Castiel demanded.

“Anna…um, Anna is…”

The man stalled, trying to think of the right word.

“Anna is what?” Castiel pressed.

“Mate?” the man tried.

Castiel felt all the blood drain from his face.

“What _the fuck_ is wrong with you?!” Castiel screamed.

The man flinched at his outburst and ducked his head.

“You better not have touched my dog or I swear to God, I will tear you apart,” Castiel seethed.

He could see the man’s eyes moving side to side as he panicked and struggled to find the right words to say.  But Castiel didn’t wait, he suddenly in the man’s personal space, size difference and his apparent uncomfortableness be damned.

“Answer me,” Castiel growled.

Again, Castiel didn’t wait.  Without thinking, he shoved the man in the chest as hard as he could.  The man staggered back only a step and a half, narrowing his eyes at Castiel.

“Where is Anna?” the man repeated.

Castiel’s lip twitched as he shoved the man more forcefully this time.  The man set his jaw, moving his shoulders back and dipping his head, yet standing taller.  Castiel ignored the frighteningly predatory stance.

“Why the hell do you care!” Castiel snapped.

“Anna is mate,” the man said evenly.

“Not yours, you sick bastard,” Castiel hissed.

“Where—“

“Dead!  Alright?  She’s dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yeah, she’s dead.  And if it’s you that caused it, and not that damn wolf, I will kill you myself.”

Right when Castiel pulled back to hit the man again was when the word ‘dead’ registered in his mind.  Castiel had every intention of striking the man, but quickly lost resolve when he body shuddered and the sounds of cracking bones filled the air.  Castiel’s fist collided with tawny fur covered chest and he was suddenly holding up the weight of a wolf on its hind legs.

“Wha…what the fuck…”

The instant the wolf curled his lips back in a snarl, Castiel retracted his arm and stumbled backwards.  The wolf fell onto all fours, bristling and puffing itself up before it ran inside.  Castiel remained frozen on the floor, staring in wide-eyed horror in the space the man had somehow turned into the wolf.  He could hear it running through the house, growling and snarling in frustration.  Suddenly it was at his side, green eyes staring straight into him, practically demanding ‘where is Anna?’  But all Castiel could do was stare back at it.  It huffed in annoyance, bolted outside and began sniffing around the yard.

Castiel trembled as he got to his feet, part of his mind screamed for him to call the police, the wildlife department— Hell, even the CIA or FBI because what in God’s name was running around his property?

Rather than going to the phone, Castiel stepped out onto the porch and watch the creature search the yard.  The wolf moved in seemingly random patterns around the yard, keeping his nose to the ground, but occasionally glaring up at Castiel.  When he came to beneath the kitchen window, his entire body froze.  He sniffed at the ground once more, fearful eyes flicking up to Castiel before slowing moving along the window; pausing above each grave.  At the last one, he lifted his head and stared at Castiel with despaired eyes.

The wolf whipped around and took off for the fence so quickly, Castiel would’ve missed it if he blinked.  Without thinking, Castiel ran after it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...i actually don't have anything to say, it's 2am and i'm tired and Cas probably got kinda OOC. just like what the notes at the beginning said, it's all uphill from here. _*waits for angry or upset comments*_


	7. The Weather Outside is Frightful

Castiel hadn’t caught the man— wolf— _thing_ , though that was unsurprising.  Two days passed and he kept his doors locked, some even barricaded.  He had called in sick for those two days, spending the time watching the fence line and trying to tell himself this had to be some kind of jacked up dream.  But the occasional distant, baleful howl was enough to tell him he wasn’t dreaming. 

In the ungodly early hours of the morning on the third day since seeing the man turn into a wolf, Castiel saw him again.  The wolf slunk under the fence railing and walked slowly over to towards the kitchen window; he didn’t even bother looking around first like he used to.  He dropped on his haunches, ears drooped and head low.  Castiel snatched up his phone and dialed the number for the wildlife department, anxiously waiting as it rang.  The phone continued to ring and ring, then reminding him it was far too early for anyone to be there.  He rolled his eyes and hung up, tossing the phone aside and creeping closer to the window.

He was sure the creature knew he was watching him, but the creature didn’t react.  He just sat there, staring at the grave.  Castiel narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him.  After a few minutes, he laid down, still not even glancing up at Castiel.  Castiel kept watching him for nearly an hour before his stomach protested loudly that it was time for breakfast.  He hesitantly moved away from the window, quickly fixing something small to eat and coming right back to it; the wolf hadn’t even so much as twitched.

Castiel wasn’t scheduled to work that day, so he didn’t have to worry about calling in again; though he was sure Ellen would call him out on it if he did.  He spent nearly the entire day watching the wolf, leaving only to grab something to eat or go to the bathroom.  It was almost hypnotizing to watch him, but Castiel snapped out of the trance at some point in the evening, remembering he had tried to call the wildlife department earlier.  He left his spot at the window to find his phone and dial the number again, listening to it ring as he returned to his spot at the window.

“Missoula wildlife department, Singer speakin’.”

Castiel didn’t reply, transfixed by watching the wolf again.

“Hello?”

Castiel shifted, letting out a quiet breath.

“Anyone there?”

He shook his head, hanging up the phone.  He wasn’t sure why he’d done that, perhaps it had something to do with how the wolf had yet to even so much as flick his ear.  He just kept laying perfectly still and somber beside the grave.  Castiel grimaced, giving him a tired glare before retreating to the living room.  He checked outside every half hour or so, but nothing changed.  Castiel settled down on the couch, picking up a book to read and deciding to not check on the wolf again.  Every instinct in him was telling him to keep watching it or call someone to come catch it, but for whatever reason, he ignored those instincts.

He’d gotten so far into his book that he didn’t hear the faint, distant howl.  But the sharp, piercing one that came from below the kitchen window was enough to scare him into dropping his book and seizing up.  He scrambled to his feet, tripping over the coffee table, and ran to the kitchen window; seeing it was now evening.  The wolf was sitting up, looking between the grave and the fence.  Another faint howl reached the house, this time Castiel heard it, and whatever it meant had the wolf flattening his ears in a clear sign of displeasure; Castiel would call it anger, but the sorrow was still written clearly over the wolf’s features.

The wolf settled back down against the house and curled up.  Castiel scowled and retreated to the couch again.  He doubted the wolf was going to stay much longer; with it being so late in the day now, it was going to get very cold very fast.  He picked up his book again and went back to reading.  It was maybe an hour or so before he had to put it down and go through the house to start turning on the heaters.  Much to his frustration, only three small cadet heaters worked.  Luckily, one of the functioning ones was in his room, but it was still insufficient; the low for the night was expected to reach twenty degrees and that was without the wind chill factor.  Castiel knew it— _he_ wasn’t an idiot, that’s how he’d avoided getting caught for so long.  He’d lived here for years, he knew how cold it could get and where he should go when it did and that certainly wasn’t under Castiel’s kitchen window.  Castiel idly wondered how old he was, from their short exchange a few days ago, he’d guess he was probably mid to late twenties; about the same age as Castiel.  But he wasn’t sure if that was even a good guess, who knew how aging worked for things that could shapeshift.  Castiel shook his head, trying to push away any concern and distract himself from the creature outside his window.

In trying to keep himself distracted, he went to his room, pulled out his laptop and immediately googled ‘werewolves’ and ‘shapeshifters’; so much for distracting himself.

He’d gotten a results list a mile long and of course it was filled ridiculous stories, testimonies and fanfiction; the latter one he avoided like the plague.  There were several legends and testimonies he found to be interesting and wound up reading them for a few hours.  The only thing that interrupted him was his cellphone going off.  With a slightly overdramatic groan, he set his laptop aside and answered his phone.

“Hello?”

“Heya, Cassie!” Gabriel greeted, “What’s happenin’?”

“I’m just reading a few things online.  Why, do you need something?”

“Maybe I just wanna talk to my lil bro,” Gabriel sounded mock offended.

“Alright, what would you like to talk about?”

“Well…” Gabriel drawled, “Since they’re comin’ up, how ‘bout the holidays?”

“Gabriel, no.”

“What?”

“I already know what you’re going to ask.”

“Oh really?  What’s that?”

“Either if I will come back to your house for Thanksgiving or if you, and probably Kali, can come over here.”

“Fine, ya got me, smart guy.  So, why ‘no’?”

“Because, honestly, I don’t want to make the drive through the pass.  Traffic can be bad enough, even without the snow,” Castiel answered, “And ‘no’ to you coming here because there’s nothing for you to do and you would get very bored very easy.”

He did enjoy spending time with his brother, but there really was nothing out here for Gabriel.  And a bored Gabriel is a dangerous Gabriel.

“Aww, c’mon, give me a little credit here.  What if it’s just for like two days?  Three, tops.”

Castiel tipped his head back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“…Three, tops?” Castiel repeated.

“I promise.”

“Alright, fine, I suppose it would be nice to have someone over for once.”

“Atta boy, Cassie!  We’ll bring the turkey.”

“So long as you buy it here, I’d rather not have you bring it nearly five hundred miles…”

“Deal.  Wouldn’t want a dead bird in my car that long anyways,” Gabriel agreed, “Guess I should let you go back to your reading now, huh?”

“That would be appreciated.”

“No love…Alright, talk to ya later then.”

“Good night, Gabriel.”

Castiel tossed his phone aside, pulling his laptop back onto his lap.  He only read for a few minutes before getting bored and getting up. Castiel went to the kitchen to get something warm to drink and checked outside again out of curiosity.  The wolf was still outside, curled up even tighter now.  He felt a pang of guilt and sadness in his chest, but tried to reason it away.  If the creature was stupid enough to stay there, unprotected from the cold, then that wasn’t his problem.  He pushed the thoughts from his mind, focusing on the microwave as it heated water for tea.  He took the mug from the microwave, dropped the teabag in and took a drink; promptly burning his tongue.  He set it on the table, giving it a glare before glancing outside.  Castiel mentally reprimanded himself, reminding himself what he had just thought about the wolf. 

He picked up his mug again, taking a drink now that it had cooled a bit, and looked outside.  _Again._   Castiel was about to scold himself for it when he noticed a tremor run through the wolf.  It was a subtle convulsion, but he caught it no less.  The wolf was trying not to shiver.

“He knows better,” Castiel told himself.

He set the mug down and walked through the living room.

“He knows better.”

He walked down the hall, stopping at a closet door and opening it.  He found a spare blanket folded up on the shelf and brought it back to the living room.  He paused at the back door, hand resting on the door knob.

“What am I doing?” Castiel grumbled.

Castiel bit his lip, debating a moment longer before sighing and opening the door.  He was greeted by a blast of cold air; not the low of the night yet, but definitely getting there.  He pulled the door shut behind himself, trying to preserve what little warmth the heaters had managed to build up.  The wolf didn’t notice him approaching, which he was somewhat grateful for.  He took a deep breath and dropped the folded blanket beside the wolf’s head.  The wolf snapped his attention to the blanket, eyeing it suspiciously before looking up at Castiel.  Castiel shifted under the gaze of surreally green eyes, turning his own eyes to the ground.  He felt like he should say something, but he had no idea what.  He just nodded to himself and turned to go back inside.  As he did, he heard the sounds of cracking bones and twisting flesh; the same chilling sound he’d heard when the man suddenly turned into the wolf.  He then heard the blanket rustling as the man worked to unfold it and wrap up in it.

When Castiel checked outside from the kitchen again, there was just a mass of blanket bundled up below the window.  Obviously, he’d changed back to a wolf to snuggle up under the blanket.  The guilt and sadness from before subsided, knowing the creature wasn’t going to freeze.  Castiel finished off his tea and went back to his room, changing into pajamas and crawling under the covers. 

               

When morning came, not even the cadet heater could stave off the chill in the room.  Castiel pulled the comforter off his bed and kept it wrapped around himself as he made his way to the kitchen; making a mental note to have someone out to fix them soon.  He made quick, small, hot breakfast and ate in the living room.  It wasn’t any warmer in there, but at least he’d be sitting on a couch that didn’t retain cold like wooden chairs.  As he ate, he wondered if the wolf creature had stayed through the night.  He highly doubted it, but he checked outside anyway.  The ground was covered in a layer of frost, disturbed only by streaks left by a dragged object and footprints; human footprints.  Castiel furrowed his brow, figuring that maybe the creature had turned back into a man to keep the blanket close as he walked away to find someplace better for the night.

Staring at the footprints and blanket trail, Castiel felt guilt starting to gnaw at him.  He shook his head, trying to force it away and focus on just the footprints.  Rather than going for the fence line, they led to the gentler hill that led to the barn.  The guilt inside Castiel combined with concern and fear, motivating him to get dressed and go down to the barn. 

He argued with himself on every step; this thing was the reason Anna was dead.  He didn’t kill her directly, but it was still very much his fault.  At the same time, because he didn’t directly, or even intentionally, kill her, Castiel couldn’t let the creature freeze to death.  Especially since it was fairly clear he did love Anna.  Which made him wonder why he disappeared for months…

Castiel forced opened the barn door, its frozen hinges creaking and cracking.  He stepped inside, hugging his jacket closer and looked around.  He caught sight of the corner of the blanket peeking out from beneath the covered, abandoned tractor.  Castiel kneeled down and pulled the tarp up enough to look under it.  He tentatively reached out to the mass of blanket and wolf and pulled the blanket back slightly, revealing the wolf’s face; his muzzle was as long as two of Castiel’s hands, wrist to middle finger tip.  He moved his hand to hover in front of the wolf’s nose, feeling for breath.  If he was breathing, it was too shallow and slow to feel.  Castiel bit his lip and gently nudged the creature’s large head; no response.  He dared to shake his head and was met with a lazy ear twitch and bleary green eyes.

Castiel sat back relieved and hitched the tarp up on some part of the tractor.  The wolf stared at Castiel for a moment, but his eyes soon brightened to curiosity.  He shifted, but made no moved to leave what warmth the blanket and tractor provided.  Castiel didn’t expect him to.  He just pushed himself up off the cold ground and started back for the house.  All he wanted to know what if the wolf creature was still alive, now he had his answer.  He had no reason to stay.  He actually a reason to leave; work.  Castiel trudged back up the hill to his house, contemplating calling in again just because he didn’t feel like working.  But he’d already called in too much; he was sure Ellen would give him the time off, but he needed the money.  The Roadhouse didn’t do sick pay, probably because they couldn’t afford it. 

As expected, it was a slow day at the Roadhouse.  It consisted mostly of Ash and Ellen grumbling and complaining about the coming snow, while Jo was excited for it.  She couldn’t wait for the chance to go snowboarding again.  Ellen firmly told her she would not be going snowboarding alone, as was her current plan, for fear of her breaking her leg or something.  Before Jo could even ask Ash, he refused.  Then she turned to Castiel.

“I’ve never been snowboarding, it’s uh…not really my thing,” Castiel said.

“Oh, c’mon!  You don’t have to actually go snowboarding if you don’t want, just come with so my mom doesn’t throw a fit,” Jo pleaded.

“Joanna,” Ellen snapped.

Jo glanced at her and gave a slight roll of her eyes.

“Please?” Jo asked.

Castiel tried to think of an excuse not to go, but no good ones came to mind.

“Alright, but—“

“Thank you so much!” Jo squealed, throwing her arms around him.

Then she was off and on her phone, talking about finding new boots or bindings or something; Castiel wasn’t sure.  All he knew was that she tore her attention from the phone long enough to tell him they’d go on the first day of snow, whenever that may be.  He just shrugged and agreed to it.  Ellen advised him to get some heavier clothes than what he had; Jo was going to keep him out in the cold for the whole day.  He didn’t really want to spend the money on winter clothes, but with how cold it could get there, it wouldn’t be bad investment.

So, after work, he went to a sporting and hunting store.  He ended up with a jacket twice as thick and warm than the one he was wearing currently, a pair of snowpants meant for snowboarding, boots and boarding gloves.  As he carried his new clothes out to the car, he caught himself thinking about the wolf— man— creature again.  The more he thought about it, the more he wondered what he did during the winter to stay warm.  It occupied his thoughts all the way home.  Wolves didn’t hibernate during the winter, so staying in a hidden cave all winter was out of the question.  As far as Castiel knew, he was feral, so he doubted he stayed in a house; unless it was an abandoned shack or barn.  Maybe he just stayed a wolf the whole winter; after all, his coat looked as thick, maybe thicker, than an Alaskan timber wolf.

When he got home, he checked outside and saw the trail from earlier had faded with additional frost.  But a new trail ran alongside it, just the same, only coming towards the house.  Castiel’s eyes followed it to the porch, where the blanket sat crudely folded.  Then he saw the wolf tracks leading to the fence.  Castiel looked at the blanket again, shrugging as he decided to just leave it outside in case the wolf came back. 

Castiel flopped down on the couch, deciding to look up the weather forecast for the week.  According to the forecast, things were only going to get colder.  The lowest low for the week was seven degrees, two nights from now.  Unfortunately, that was also the day that called for nearly a foot of snow; the day Castiel would have to take Jo snowboarding.  All of a sudden, the idea seemed horribly unpleasant.  Maybe he could pretend to be sick…again.  He sighed and got to make himself dinner, catching the sight of a tall, blanketed form retreating in the direction of the barn.  He wasn’t sure how he managed to miss a wolf that big coming up to the porch, turning into a human, unfolding a blanket and taking it with him.  But he did.

“Good thing I left it…” Castiel mumbled.

As he made dinner, he considered bringing some to the creature taking shelter in the barn.  But he talked himself out of the idea; it was already too much to have given him the blanket.  He ate his dinner quickly, making every effort to keep his mind off the creature. 

The effort became more challenging when he went to bed and saw the frost creeping on his window as his heater struggled to keep the room at least halfway pleasant.

The next morning, Castiel once again ventured down to the barn to make sure the wolf hadn’t frozen to death.  And, again, he was met by bleary eyes brightening to curiosity and confusion before Castiel huffed and went off to work.  When he turned, the blanket was once more crudely folded up on the porch and then taken back when night came.

The day after that, Castiel awoke to almost seven inches of snow on the ground; and it was still falling.  He’d hoped Ellen would call to say that the Roadhouse was closed or that he wouldn’t have to take Jo snowboarding, but she didn’t.  He grumbled to himself, remembering it took more than two inches of snow to hinder any place west of the Cascades.  He quickly ran down to the barn, as best he could without falling down the hill, to check on the wolf.  Almost expecting it, the wolf woke up the second Castiel moved the tarp on the tractor.  The wolf had moved around some of the stale hay scattered about to beneath the tractor and removed the tarps from the ATVs, also having taken them under the tractor.  It was just a mass that barely fit underneath it, but if it was enough to keep the wolf warm, and alive, then that was good enough. 

Castiel hurried back up the hill, trying not to waste too much time.  He knew he should’ve left early, or not bothered checking on the creature, but he couldn’t say he regretted it.  At least, until he started driving.  The whole drive to the Roadhouse, Castiel was practically yelling and cursing.  He had no chains, no snow tires, and the portion of the interstate he took had been cleared; and snowed over again.  All he could do was try to stay in the tracks of others who had already driven it.  When he got the Roadhouse, almost forty minutes late, he wasn’t surprised the only cars, parked crooked, in the parking belonged to Ellen, Jo and Ash.  Jo’s car, of course, had a snowboard and bindings visible in the back seat.

He couldn’t have been inside for more than two minutes before Jo was dragging him back out to her car.  He was glad they were taking her car, it had four wheel drive; unlike his truck with rear wheel.  She drove them to a hillside about an hour away.  It wasn’t a ski resort of any kind, but it was big enough to attract maybe a dozen people. 

“So, what exactly am I supposed to do?” Castiel asked.

“Whatever you want, I guess,” Jo shrugged, “My mom just wanted someone out here with me.”

Castiel looked around for any idea of something to do while Jo unloaded her snowboard and put on her boots.  She quickly thanked him again for coming out with her before she took off up the hill with a couple other snowboarders.

“There are plenty of people out here,” Castiel grumbled to himself, “Ellen had nothing to worry about.”

Castiel ended up sitting on a rock, watching Jo and her apparent new friends slide down the mountain, then making obstacles out of snow and trying to outdo each other.  After about an hour and a half, the cold of the rock had penetrated through Castiel’s clothes.  He stood and paced for about twenty minutes before getting back in the car.  At some point, he must’ve fallen asleep because when a worn out and snow covered-Jo rapped on the window, the sky was dark and Castiel became aware of just how freezing cold it was, even inside the car.  Jo laughed at him, loading her stuff back into the back of the car and shirking off two layers of wet and snow-matted clothes.

Jo was perfectly fine on the drive back to the Roadhouse, she was used to this weather.  But Castiel still had to resist a shiver every couple minutes, even though the heater was on and he was still wearing his snow clothes.

“Little colder than you’re used to, huh?” Jo teased.

“Much,” Castiel muttered, “What’s the temperature?”

“Um…” Jo peeked down at the gauge on her dash, “Eight.”

Castiel groaned, earning a look from Jo that was a cross between amusement and empathy.  She made sure to give him a hot drink at the Roadhouse before he went home, promising there’d always be at least one hot drink, maybe two, on the house through the winter as thanks for going with her.  He thanked her for it and clung the hot cider to his chest as he went out to his truck and started the longer than normal drive home.  If anything, the drive was now worse because there was even more snow, definitely at least eleven inches, and it was dark. 

To say he was relieved and grateful by the time he got home was an understatement.  He immediately turned the three heaters on full blast and only bothered with kicking his boots off.  The rest he was keeping on until the house warmed up.  He walked over to the window and looked down to see the snow dusted blanket folded up on the porch.  Castiel wondered if the wolf would be coming back tonight at all; it was quite a bit of snow and surely the creature would rather stay wherever it normally stayed during heavy snow fall.  Well, to Castiel, this was heavy snow fall.  To people who lived here more than five months, this was normal. 

Castiel couldn’t even be bothered to make dinner yet as he sat huddled up on the couch.  Almost two hours past and the house still wasn’t warm enough to take his snow clothes off, though he did remove his jacket.  It was getting a little annoying.  He tossed it behind the couch and tucked his arms around himself, debating if he wanted to move to get a blanket or a sweater.  A shiver ran down his spine, making him decide on a blanket.  Just as he started to get up, he caught a glimpse of the wolf’s head peeking above the window sill.  Castiel froze, trembling slightly from cold and watched it disappear, then seeing a flash of fur and skin before he heard the door knob twisting.  He mentally cursed himself for not locking it after this morning and tried to prepare himself for whatever was about to happen.

The door opened just enough for the man to lean in, letting in a breeze of freezing air that had another shiver running through Castiel.  The man fidgeted with something on the otherside of the door, opening and closing his mouth and he visibly struggled to find words.  He huffed, apparently annoyed with himself, and took a half step inside, extending the chilled blanket out to Castiel.

“Take,” the man said.

“…W-what?”

“Take,” the man repeated.

“Um, no…No, I have other—“

“Take.  Need more.”

Castiel furrowed his brow in total confusion.  Was the _naked_ man standing part way outside in _single digit_ weather really telling he needed the blanket more than he did?  Castiel was going to point that out, but a different question came out.

“Won’t you be cold?” Castiel asked.

“No.  Used to cold.  Take…um, puh-leeze?”

Part of Castiel’s mind told him not to take it, whether out of concern or caution, he wasn’t sure.  It must be the latter, because it was the same part of his mind that had told him to call Bobby, or even FBI or CIA, or anyone to trap this thing.  The logical side of his brain.  This creature shouldn’t exist, it wasn’t natural, he could be extremely dangerous, nothing about being near him was a good idea.  But, of course, all those thoughts went unheard as Castiel tentatively walked over to him.  The man’s face brightened slightly as he gave him an innocent, encouraging smile.  One that revealed strikingly white and perfect teeth with slightly elongated and sharpened canines.  Maybe innocent wasn’t exactly the right word for a smile with teeth like that.

His smile only grew when Castiel’s fingers curled around the blanket and took it from him, wrapping the blanket around himself.  The living room was now freezing cold, thanks to this man, and Castiel was sure any built up heat in the rest of the house was being obliterated.

“Um, th-thank you,” Castiel mumbled.

The man smiled again, though it faltered as he searched for words again.

“Wel-wel…cohm.”

The man fidgeted again and glanced around, unsure of what to, then decided on leaving.  Castiel was thankful when the door shut, putting an end to the cold pouring into his house.  He stood there for a moment, gritting his teeth and rubbing his hands, still clutching the blanket, over his face.  He gave and exasperated sigh and stepped forward to pull the door open again.

“Hey!” Castiel called.

He didn’t know why he yelled, the man— now wolf, was only a few feet from the porch.  The wolf turned and cocked his head, perking his ears up.

“I kn-know you said you’re used to it— the cold, but…” Castiel swallowed, pausing at what he was going to offer, “But, you can stay here, in here.  If you want.  It’s got to better than the barn or wherever else…”

The wolf cocked his head to the otherside, processing what Castiel said.  To clarify, Castiel opened the door wider and stepped to the side, gesturing his arm towards the living room.  The wolf wagged his tail before turning away.  Castiel immediately and was about to start mentally snapping at him, when a long, loud howl tore from the wolf’s throat.  He didn’t even wait for the usual distant howl before he was trotting past Castiel into the living room.  Castiel shut the door, slumping against and watching the wolf come to a stop in the middle of the room; the big creature looked so out of place.  He also looked sheepish and unsure of what do to.  To be honest, Castiel didn’t know what to do either, he hadn’t thought this through at all.  But he figured at this point, inviting some strange and feral creature into your house, there weren’t many bad ideas left.

“Can— Can I talk to you?” Castiel asked.

He was trying to suppress the cold still nipping at him through the blanket.  The wolf looked at him as if to say ‘you are talking to me’.

“I mean, you.  Uh, human you.”

Castiel held his hand up just above his head, about the man’s height, to give him the idea.  The wolf understood that and Castiel averted his eyes as his body contorted, filling the room with the sounds of flesh and bone being manipulated.  Now there was a naked man in his living room.

“Why don’t you, uh, just…one second.”

Castiel walked past him, keeping his eyes on the ground, to his room and came back with a bathrobe.  He handed to the man, who took at it and tilted his head to the side before attempting to put it on.  He managed to turn one sleeve inside out, but somehow still got the bathrobe on; granted, it hung wrong off him, but kept him covered enough.  Castiel pinched the bridge of nose, deciding what to start with.

“What are you?” Castiel asked bluntly.

The man had that look on his face again, the one indicating he didn’t know what to say.  Evidently, a conversation was going to be a chore for the both of them.

“Dine'é call us yee naaldooshii.”

“…What.”

“Dine'é, um…Navajo.  Call us yee naaldooshii.”

“What the hell is a yee naaldooshii?”

The man shifted, face scrunching up in thought for a moment.

“Sk-skin-wah-ker.”

“’Skinwalker’?”

The man nodded.

“A skinwalker.  Great,” Castiel sighed, “The Navajo…so are you from the southwest?”

“Hm?”

“The sou— Where are you from?”

“Kansa.”

“Kansas?”

The man made a face that told Castiel he was half right.

“Kansa tribe.”

“They…they don’t speak the same language as the Navajo, do they?”

“No.  Different.”

“Then what did the Kansa call you?”

“Never learned.  Left when I was small.”

Castiel got the feeling this wasn’t an issue to press at the moment.  He rolled his jaw, sighing as he sat down on the couch and curled up, hugging the blanket closer.  The man blinked at him before copying him, though he didn’t hug the robe close.  Castiel eyed him for a moment.

“What’s your name?”

“Dee-een.”

“Dean?”

Dean nodded.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, first, i know i told someone Dean's speech pattern would be addressed in this chapter and then i totally didn't address it. next chapter, i promise. second, for the life of me, i could not find what the Kaw/Kansa called skinwalkers, but that's okay i'm just gonna work around it, won't bother the plot at all.
> 
> so...comments?


	8. What's This?

“What name?” Dean asked.

“Castiel.”

Dean scrunched his face up, like he was trying to decide if Castiel was being serious.  Once he decided Castiel was serious, his expression turned to slight frustration as he tried to repeat Castiel’s name.

“Cah-see-al?”

People always had trouble with Castiel’s name at first, sometimes a few times in a row.  But in this case, Dean had somewhat of a handicap.  It was pretty obvious at this point he had some kind of speech or mental impediment.

“Castiel,” Castiel repeated patiently.

“Case-tee-al?”

“Cah-stee-el,” Castiel sounded out.

“Caws-tee— Cahs-tay…” Dean grunted in frustration, “Cas.”

Castiel cocked his head.

“Cas,” Dean stated.

A small smile quirked at Castiel’s lips; Dean had given up on his name and immediately given him a nickname that was much easier for him to say.  Though the smile was quickly replaced with a yawn and shiver.  He tucked himself tighter, hugging the blanket, and glanced at the clock; eleven forty-five.  He grumbled semi-audibly to himself, now wondering what he was going to do about the sleeping arrangements.  He should have thought the offer through better, or actually not have even made it.  Castiel was sure Dean would be fine with sleeping on the couch, the only other options were the floor or Castiel’s bed.  The latter was not going to happen.  Dean tilted his head and blinked curiously at him.  Castiel shifted on the couch, moving to get up with Dean’s gaze following every movement.

“You can, um…I’m going to go to sleep,” Castiel started, “If you get cold or anything, there’s more blankets in the closet in the hallway, only door on the left.”

Castiel lazily gestured to the hallway and glanced down the hall, keeping the same curious look before turning back to Castiel with it.  Castiel shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to do now.  He cleared his throat and started off towards his room, pausing at the end of the hallway for a moment.

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning…?” Castiel ventured.

Dean smiled at that.

“Yes.  See in morning.”

Castiel nodded and continued to his room.  He reluctantly stripped off his layers of clothes, exposing himself to the cold before quickly pulling on pajamas and burying himself under the blankets of his bed.  He thought about taking a hot bath to ease the cold from his bones, but he wasn’t going to put himself in such a vulnerable position with a strange creature— _skinwalker_ in his living room.  Castiel buried his face into his pillow and groaned.  On the list of stupid things he had done throughout his life, this had to be one of the top five; maybe even number one.  True, Dean had done nothing dangerous, save for break his door a few times and snarled at him.  But that didn’t mean Dean was incapable of dangerous things, he could very easily tear Castiel apart if he wanted.  He was smart too, perhaps not so much in vocal communication, but in being able to evade wildlife capture and survive on his own.  Or with a pack, rather.  Castiel did remember hearing answering howls.

Another thought occurred to Castiel then; Dean could bring a whole pack, or whatever the grouping was called, to Castiel’s back door.  Castiel groaned into the pillow again, curling up under the blankets and moving the pillow over his head.  This may actually be the number one most stupid thing he’d ever done and he was already beginning to regret it as he drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he couldn’t help but think it was oddly quiet.  He really had no idea if skinwalkers were known for being loud of quiet, Dean had been mostly quiet, but he was sure he should hear _something_ going on.  He pushed the covers back, shivering at the cold and taking one off the bed to wrap around himself.  He wandered through the house, poking his head in a few rooms and around corners in search of Dean.  The living room was empty, with no indication anyone had been in it recently.  Maybe last night had just been a dream.  The thought settled heavily and actually managed to sadden Castiel.

He dragged his feet into the kitchen, where the sadness lifted immediately upon seeing signs of life.  Those signs being open cabinets, spilled cereal, the fridge not quite shut all the way and what looked like tiny remnants of a broken glass over by the stove.  Castiel huffed and went to find a broom, annoyedly pushing the fridge door shut.  He swept up the remainder of the glass, along with the cereal, and wondered where Dean had gone off to.  Castiel wrapped the blanket tighter around himself as he went to the backdoor and opened it, bracing against the blast of cold.  The robe he’d given Dean last night sat in a heap on the porch, like Dean had given up folding it. 

He heard snow crunching and snapped his head up to see Dean, as a wolf, paused at the fence, like a child caught doing something wrong and dipped his head in apology.  Castiel sighed, shifting his weight and leaning back against the door to prop it open.

“Just come inside, I don’t want to keep letting the cold in,” Castiel said.

Dean’s ears perked up as he wagged his tail and bounded up to the porch in less than five bounds.  He snatched up the robe in his teeth as he trotted inside, dropping it on the couch for a moment as he body twisted back to human.  Dean fumbled with the robe again, though this time he managed to put it on correctly.  His eyes darted towards the kitchen for a second before glancing at the floor.

“Made mess.  Sorry.  Was to clean,” Dean smiled sheepishly.

“It’s— It’s fine, it wasn’t a big—“

Castiel stopped when he saw Dean shift his weight and flinch, quickly shifting to favor his left leg.  He knitted his brows together, eyes flicking up from Dean’s bare foot to his face, where his sheepish smile was now more forced looking.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked.

“Fine.”

Dean shifted again, this time putting his weight towards his toes, keeping it off his heel.  Castiel scowled, not believing him for a minute.  He walked closer to Dean, who cocked his head curiously at him.

“Can I see your foot?”

“Why?”

“I just want to see.”

Now it was Dean who scowled.  Castiel could see him contemplating ignoring the request and walking away or changing the subject, but he was glad when Dean collapsed onto the couch with a huff.  He turned and lifted his leg, allowing Castiel to see the bottom of his heel; as well as other things when the robe fell back.  Castiel swallowed thickly, trying to fight down the blush he was sure was creepy onto his face and focused on Dean’s heel.  The skin was somewhat dry, though that was unsurprising, but it was also broken and bright red with a glittering piece of glass in the center.  Between the size of the shard and the pressure Dean had no doubt put on it, it was no longer bleeding.  Castiel sighed, moving around the couch.

“Where go?”

“I’ll be right back,” Castiel replied.

He went into the bathroom, digging through the cabinet in search of any first aid things.  He found only a half empty bottle of hydrogen peroxide, tweezers, a box of too-small band-aids and an ace bandage.  That would work just fine.  He carried the things back to the living room and nodded for Dean to follow him as he continued to the kitchen.  He set them on the counter beside the sink and turned to Dean.

“Sit up here,” Castiel said, patting the counter.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to get the glass out of your foot.”

“Tried.  Doesn’t come out.  Just wait.”

“No, that’s not a good idea.  Just trust me, okay?  I can get it out.”

Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Castiel, but once again complied.  He hopped up on the counter and let Castiel turn him so his foot was over the sink.  He watched Castiel intently as he opened the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and poured a small amount into the cap.  Dean caught a whiff of the chemical and made of face of slight disgust.

“What that?”

“Hydrogen peroxide,” Castiel answered as he dipped the tweezers, “It’s, uh, it’s so you don’t get an infection.”

“In-fuk-shun?” Dean repeated.

“Infection, yeah, it can make you really sick.”

When Castiel put the tweezers to Dean’s heel, he gave a soft hiss of pain at the chemical and made a face of discomfort as Castiel worked the shard out.  He set it aside and twisted Dean’s foot around, looking for a glistening of another shard, just in case.  When he saw there was no more, he set the tweezers down and picked up the bottle of hydrogen peroxide.  Dean eyed him suspiciously and was about to ask what Castiel was doing, only to have his question preemptively answered by Castiel splashing the liquid onto the now bleeding wound. 

Dean howled, literally howled, in pain as the chemical bubbled at the wound.  He kicked at Castiel and drew his leg in close, frantically trying to figure out what to do to make the acidic burning stop.  Castiel reached for Dean only to have him curl his lip at him in silent snarl.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t warn you.  But I need to put a bandage over it now.”

“What is bandage?”

“It’s just to cover it up so nothing gets in your cut.”

“Never need one.”

Castiel sighed, of course Dean would probably never have needed one.  Well, never used one would be more accurate. 

“Please?  I promise it won’t hurt at all,” Castiel tried.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, glancing between his foot and Castiel.  Just as before, he reluctantly complied.  Castiel dabbed the remaining hydrogen peroxide off and covered the wound with two of the small band-aids.  Because of where it was on Dean’s heal, and the band-aids being sized more for minor paper cuts and not shards of glass, Castiel wrapped the ace bandage around Dean’s heel to keep them in place. 

Dean hopped off the counter and experimentally put weight on his heel.  There was no flash of pain, thankfully, but there was evident annoyance.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can’t move good.”

“I know it’s kind of restricting, but at least wear it for a few hours?” Castiel asked.

That should be enough time for the bleeding to stop, though not necessarily heal.  Dean looked down at the ace bandage and wrinkled his nose but huffed in compliance.  He followed Castiel back into the living room, settling on the couch cross legged and lifting his foot to inspect the bandage further.  Castiel watched in amusement before Dean looked up at him.

“No leave today?” Dean asked.

“No leave…?  Oh, for work,” Castiel realized, “Shit, I forgot about work.”

He quickly pulled out his phone to call Ellen and apologize and tell her he’d be there soon, but there was a voicemail icon already on his screen.  He sighed and tapped it, fully expecting the message to be asking where he was.  When the voicemail began reciting, Dean perked up and crawled over to him, pressing his face near Castiel’s to listen to the phone message.  Ellen hadn’t left a message asking where he was, she’d left one saying a pipe had burst at the Roadhouse and it would be a few days before it could be fixed, so he was off work until then.  Because of the inconvenience, and as thanks for taking Jo snowboarding, Ellen said she’d still give him two days’ sick pay.  Castiel shrugged and hung up the phone as Dean sat back on his haunches.

“What is?”

Dean pointed to the phone.

“It’s a phone— Cell phone.”

“What is ‘cell phone’?”

“It’s basically just a phone, which is—“

“Know what phone is.  What is ‘cell phone’?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t— It’s a phone that can be used anywhere.  And can send texts, um, letters to other cell phones.  And take pictures and send those too.”

Dean stared at him in utter confusion before snatching the phone out his hand.  He held it in both hands, attempting to tap a command, but not realizing the screen was locked.  Castiel bit his lip to restrain a smile and laugh and reached over to hit the button on the side.  Dean flinched when the unlock screen came up and hesitantly tapped the padlock icon, unlocking the phone; Castiel had never bothered with passwords or patterns or anything. 

Castiel sat back and covered his mouth with his hand to hide the growing grin as Dean sat there, cross-legged with frustration on his face as he either failed to get the phone to do anything or it gave him an error message.  Eventually, Dean did manage to get the texting screen up.  He tilted his head as he read through a thread, finding more interest in that there was an actual conversation than what the conversation was about.  But Castiel did notice he was reading; texts, errors, app names… He never asked what something said like Castiel thought he would. 

“You can read?” Castiel ventured.

“Some.”

“Where did you learn to read?”

Dean shifted, glancing around the floor for a second before his attention was back on the phone.  Castiel got the same feeling as last night when Dean had said he’d left the Kansa tribe when he was little; this wasn’t something to be talked about right now. 

Dean then managed his way into the gallery, marveling at each picture captured.  When he got to a certain picture, his expression immediately dropped.  Castiel didn’t even have to look to know which one it was; it was the one he’d taken of Dean and Anna sleeping on the porch to send to Gabriel.  Dean didn’t scroll past the picture, he just lowered the phone and continued to stare at it.

“I miss her, too,” Castiel murmured.

Dean hummed.

“Why...did you leave?”

Dean tensed slightly.

“Not want to.  Problems with family,” Dean answered, “Lots fighting.”

“About what?”

“Same thing always.”

“Oh…I’m sorry,” Castiel offered.

Dean furrowed his brows, tilting his head at Castiel.  He clearly didn’t understand what Castiel was apologizing for.  Then he just shook his head with a sigh and went back to fiddling with Castiel’s phone, until it vibrated with a text and spooked Dean into dropping it.  Castiel snorted and Dean shot him an indignant look as he leaned forward and snatch it up off the floor.

“Gah-brai…bri…el?” Dean read, “Mul…mul-tai mead-i-ah?”

“Gabriel sent me a picture,” Castiel clarified.

Castiel took the phone from Dean, but stayed close enough he could still see the screen.  He pressed the ‘download’ button and waited a second for the picture to appear.  A shot of Gabriel’s dinner came up, Castiel hated it when he sent pictures of food; it was annoying.  He was eating a small cut of salmon that had been roasted on a cedar plank, a side of mashed potatoes, and an assortment of grilled vegetables.  The caption on the picture read ‘ _Guess how much_ ’.  Castiel rolled his eyes and replied with ‘ _$25_ ’.  Dean took the phone back then and held the phone closer to his face to get a better look at the dinner; Castiel enlarged the image for him.

“What is?”

“He’s having salmon and vegetables.”

“What wrong with salmon?”

“Nothing, it’s just been roasted.”

“Row-stead?  Looks rotting.”

The phone buzzed again with Gabriel’s reply.  ‘ _Wrong-o.  Try $35._ ’  Castiel took the phone from Dean again and replied, ‘ _Sounds like you overpaid,_ ’ he paused a minute before adding, ‘ _My friend says it looks like it’s rotting_.’  He didn’t know what else to call Dean, he couldn’t say ‘this stranger in my house’ or ‘this skinwalker thing’.  Friend was vague enough; but he kept his phone after that. 

“What does row-stead, um…tayst like?”

“I’m terrible at describing food,” Castiel sighed, “It’s like normal salmon, but warmer, a little less juicy, I think.  Sometimes it’s kind of smoky tasting.”

Castiel couldn’t quite gauge Dean’s reaction, he was probably trying to imagine what that tastes like.

“Can make?” Dean asked.

“Can I make it?”

Dean nodded.

“I don’t have any cedar planks…or salmon.”

“Can get salmon.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows at Dean.  He was offering to get the salmon, which would save a fair amount of money on Castiel’s part.  But the reality of the situation began to sink in on Castiel.  A creature that should not exist was sitting on his couch.  Something potentially extremely dangerous had gotten a shard of glass stuck in its heel and Castiel had removed it.  Something animalistic was learning Castiel’s phone and offering to go get fish for him to cook for them.  Then Castiel heard himself start laughing.  Dean narrowed his eyes in confusion and sat back, staring at Castiel like he’d done something weird.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…nothing,” Castiel cleared his throat, “If you can get salmon, I’ll try to make it.  I don’t have any planks, but I can do something else.”

Dean beamed and got up, striding over to the door.  He stopped and paused with his hand on the handle.

“Want come with?” Dean asked.

Castiel gaped for a second; he actually would like to see how Dean would get the fish.  Plus, he wasn’t sure how Dean intended to carry the fish back.  Him going along and bringing a small bucket or something wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Yeah, sure,” Castiel nodded, “Just give me a minute.”

There was still nearly a foot of snow on the ground, making Castiel layer up just as much as yesterday; though he did put on an extra pair of thick socks.  He came back to the living room, going straight to the kitchen where he knew he had a small cooler.  He’d leave it empty of water for now, just to keep it light; it would probably freeze on the way to wherever Dean was planning on going. 

Dean opened the door, shrugging off the robe and twisting his body.  Castiel averted his eyes; he doubted that was something he could ever get used to.  The sound of cracking bones and rippling flesh was enough; he didn’t need to see it too.  When the massive wolf gave a short bark to get his attention, he followed him outside, shutting the door behind himself.  Dean started for the fence line, but seemed to reconsider, like he knew Castiel couldn’t go all the way down the steep hill.  Instead, he led Castiel down around the barn. 

Castiel hadn’t ever had reason to venture beyond this part of his property and, from the looks of it, none of the previous, recent owners had much of a reason either.  The broad pathway began narrow and get uneven, tripping Castiel a few times.  A few more minutes of walking and there wasn’t even a path anymore; at least, none he could see.  Dean trotted along just fine, occasionally glancing back to see Castiel taking exaggerated steps through the snow and let out a rough huff.  Castiel could swear it was laughter.  The further they walked, the more effort it took Castiel to keep up with Dean.  It got to the point where Dean had slowed to a walk and was practically dragging his paws through the snow.  The wind swept by them, kicking up flurries of snow and sending shivers through Castiel.  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.  Dean walked up to him, nudging him with his head and looking up with concerned green eyes.

“I’m f-f-fine, just c-cold,” Castiel said, “How m-much further?”

Dean flicked his ear and turned his head to the side in the direction they’d been going.  There was no visible body of water insight; there was still a long ways to go.  Castiel groaned and slumped against a tree.  Dean nudged him again, turning to the side and giving a slight nod.  He was offering to carry Castiel.  Dean, as a wolf, was probably about the size of a large Shetland pony, he could do it with no effort.  It was a strange notion, but Castiel didn’t have much of a choice.  He didn’t think he could walk much more, Dean would either have to carry him back home or make the trip worth it and carry him to wherever they were going, then back home.

Castiel straightened his jacket before reaching for, and coiling back from, Dean several times.  He’d ridden a horse _once_ , a trained horse on the beach, supervised by the horse’s ranchers along with other people wanting to ride horses.  It was Gabriel’s idea.  How was he supposed to ride a wolf?  Dean bumped him again.  Castiel scowled before grabbing the fur around the base of Dean’s neck and throwing his leg over.  Dean jumped a little, helping to move Castiel to a better position before he started off.  He was nice enough to start out at a walk, though it was more of him getting used to the weight than actually being nice.  Once he was used to it, then he walked faster.  The trotted.  Then ran.  Then started bounding through the trees and snow like it was nothing. 

Everything blurred past Castiel and the wind and new falling snow whipped at his face, forcing him to tuck closer to Dean.  Despite Dean’s running and jumping, everything was surprising smooth; there was nothing jarring Castiel in the way Dean moved.  He could feel the movement of muscle all beneath him and the sensation of rocking back and forth, no more intense than sitting in a rocking chair.  The only sound around them was the wind rushing by and Dean’s deep breathing, maybe the occasional snap of a twig muffled under snow.

Castiel wasn’t sure how long past, or how far they’d gone, but Dean began to slow down.  Long, graceful movements becoming shorter and more bouncy until he stopped.  Castiel sat up and looked around; there was a strip of a clearing, not very wide, and the snow dipped down a bit.  Dean grumbled at him, telling him to get off now.  Castiel complied, moving stiffly and stumbling to a nearby fallen tree.  He dusted the snow off and sat down as Dean moved the clearing and began batting the snow around with his head and front paws.  It took him a few minutes, but he’d managed to clear a space large enough for himself to spread his legs out and then some.  He lowered the front portion of his body, keeping his hindquarters up and swaying slightly.  Then, all of a sudden, he was springing up into the air, as high as Castiel was tall, with a snarl and coming down hard on his front paws.

A deep, chilling crack resonated off the trees and Castiel’s heart sank as Dean collapsed, believing he had just broken both his front legs.  Castiel jumped up and started towards him when Dean stood up just fine.  In fact, he was preparing to do it again.  Castiel’s jaw fell open as he heard the same result before it clicked in his mind.  Ice.  Dean was breaking ice.  Dean readied himself for a third time, though this time it was unnecessary for such a jump.  Instead, he only reared up on his hind legs and slammed down again, earning a more high pitched crack followed by crackling before the ice gave way and Dean’s front half was up to his chest in water.  it didn’t seem to bother him, he just moved the rest of his body in, swiping at the edges of ice to widen the hole.

He then braced himself and stood stock still.  Castiel felt like he was watching a nature video of wolves hunting the winter, which essentially, he kind of was.  A few minutes ticked by before Dean was suddenly diving at the water; mouth wide open, sharp teeth flashing.  Icy water splashed around him, but he lifted his dripping head with a fair sized fish in his jaws.

“Oh my god…” Castiel breathed.

Dean wagged his tail, crawling out his ice hole and trotting over to Castiel.  He dropped the fish in the bucket and turned to go back for more.  Soon, there was a total of four fish in the bucket before Castiel decided that was plenty.  He filled the bucket with snow, not daring to venture to the ice hole for water, then climbed back onto Dean’s back.  He cringed at the soft fur now feeling sharp, thanks to the freezing water, but it wasn’t bad.

Going back was just as smooth as coming to the river, taking less time since Dean carried him the whole way.  Castiel was relieved to be back at the house, throwing the door open and immediately shirking his snowy clothes.  Dean stopped outside the door, taking a minute to shake snow and ice from his fur before his body twisted back into a human; hair matted with flecks of ice and a sheen of water on his skin.  He wrapped himself up in the robe again, gently kicking the door closed as Castiel retreated to his room for warmer, drier clothes and to make sure the three small heaters were going full blast.

He came back and retrieved the bucket, carrying it into the kitchen and into the sink.  Dean followed him into the kitchen, peering over his shoulder as Castiel took the fish out and started gutting them.  He became even more curious as Castiel gathered up seasonings and oils, picking up every single thing Castiel set down and inspecting it; even opening and sniffing several of them.  Of course, he ended up in Castiel’s way a few times.  He was practically smothering Castiel when he put the salmon in the pan to sear it.  He reached out and tentatively poked the fish as the flesh turned from bright pinkish-red to shades of orange, yellow and brown.

Castiel shooed him to the side again, getting plates for the both of them and serving the fish.  He’d cooked all four of them, figuring if it wasn’t all eaten, he could save and reheat some for later.  Although, something told him there would probably be very little to save.  Dean watched Castiel for a minute, the way he used his silverware.  Dean attempted to copy him, but either the knife kept slipping across the plate or the fork separated a tiny bit of fish from the rest.  Castiel kept his eyes on his food, trying not to laugh because when Dean was successful at getting a decent sized bite on the fork, he dropped it.  It was almost like watching Beast from _Beauty and the Beast_ trying to eat his porridge.  Dean managed to become about as skillful with silverware as a four year old before angrily setting the fork and knife down.  He glowered at the plate, rolling his jaw and flicking a glance up at Castiel before deciding to just pick it up with his hands.

Castiel was going to make a remake about table manners, but the words died in his throat as Dean’s food was gone in about a minute.

“Are…are you still hungry?” Castiel asked.

“Yes.”

He said it like it was obvious, which Castiel supposed it was, but the tone was more that Castiel should know how much he ate.  He gave Dean another fish and it was gone nearly as quick.  He offered the third fish, the first having been split between the two of them, and likewise, Dean ate it just as quickly.  He even took the fourth one, though halfway through he glanced at Castiel and stopped.  He scooted the plate towards Castiel, offering the remainder of the last fish.

“Not eat much,” Dean said.

“I, uh, don’t have as big an appetite as you,” Castiel gave a breathy laugh, “You can eat it if you’re hungry.”

Dean didn’t do anything, he just watched as Castiel finally finished his own meal.  Then Dean scooted the plate again.

“Eat more.”

“I’m not—“

Castiel stopped, seeing Dean’s insistent gaze.

“How about I save it for later?” Castiel tried.

“Promise you eat?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

Dean hummed in satisfaction as Castiel took the plate and wrapped it up to put in the fridge.  He turned to say something to Dean, but stopped when he caught the shiver that ran through Dean’s body and realized Dean was still wet.

“You should get dried off, you might warm up faster then,” Castiel advised.

“Used to it.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s pleasant,” Castiel replied.

Without waiting for another word, Castiel left to get a towel.  When he came back, he handed it to Dean, who’d moved to the living room.  There was a look a gratefulness in Dean’s eyes, and possibly a quick flash of something more contemplative, before he was rubbing the towel through his hair until it stood up in fluffed, uneven spikes.

Castiel heard his phone vibrate in the kitchen and went to retrieve it.  Hearing the now familiar body cracking, he came back to find the wolf settling on the floor in front of one of the working heaters; still with the robe and towel covering him.  It was only just turning to evening now, they’d been gone for hours, but Dean was drifting off to sleep, basking in the warmth.   Castiel quirked a smile, sitting on the couch and watching Dean, smiling fully when he started snoring and twitching.           

The big bad wolf was sleeping in his living room, under a towel and bathrobe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't help but think of _What's This?_ from Nightmare Before Christmas because of Dean's curiosity in the chapter and the fact that i had been listening to the soundtrack earlier...as i wrote most of this on halloween. and the salmon thing, i just really _really_ wanted salmon.
> 
> anyways! i'm thinking the next chapter needs more about Dean and maybe some drama. 
> 
> thoughts, comments, feels?
> 
> **update:[art available](http://leo-arcana.tumblr.com/post/109077486055/art-for-my-spn-skinwalker-au-dire-castiel) for this chapter**


	9. Thanksgiving

Castiel leaned against the bar, resting his head on his hand and staring out the frosted window.  There weren’t any patrons and he doubted there would be any at all today.  A foot and a half of now frozen snow was a fairly good deterrent.  He sighed and began wondering what Dean would be doing.  He’d left the house unlocked for Dean to come and go as he pleased, he only told him to make sure the doors stayed shut and the heaters stayed on.  But what would he be doing?  Going through every single cabinet and closet?  Fumbling with some bit of technology?  He might be entertained for all of two hours in the house, nowhere near the length of Castiel’s shift.  If he’d gone out, what else would he be doing?  All Castiel could think of was either hunting and fishing, walking around or doing whatever it was he did with his pack— family.  He couldn’t think of anything that would actually occupy a skinwalker for any length of time.

“Someone’s in deep thought,” Jo commented.

“Huh?  Oh, I, um…” Castiel straightened up, “Yes, I suppose.  There’s not much else to do.”

“That’s what you get for working hard all the other days, didn’t leave yourself anything to do,” Jo smirked, “So, whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“It’s nothing, just random thoughts.”

“C’mon, I’m bored too,” Jo whined, “Tell me.”

“Well, I was just wondering what do sk—“ Castiel stopped himself, “—animals do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do they do?  Besides hunt and walk around and whatnot.  Do they do anything to entertain themselves?”

“…Are you high?” Jo asked.

“What?  No.  Why?”

“Nobody thinks about that kinda stuff.”

“Well, like I said, just random thoughts,” Castiel shrugged.

He sighed and leaned against the bar again, pointedly ignoring the confused stare Jo was giving him.  She set her jaw, scowling at the floor and shifted from foot to foot, then threw her hands up with an exasperated groan.  Castiel lifted his head and looked at her curiously.

“I’m gonna be thinking about that all day now!  Thanks,” Jo huffed.

Castiel gave her a small, amused smile as he rested his head again and Jo stalked off.  He almost laughed when he could distantly hear Jo asking Ash the same question.  Then he did start laughing when Ash asked if she’d gotten into his stash.

His laughter quieted when he heard the door opening.  He turned around to see a worn out blonde woman walking straight up to the bar and taking a seat.

“Hi, can I get a vodka martini?” the woman asked.

“Of course.”

He didn’t bother asking for her ID.  She looked older than twenty-one, though not by much.  He was usually pretty good at judging whether or not someone was old enough.  While he made her requested drink, he couldn’t help but notice she looked stressed about something.

“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” Castiel noted.

“That obvious?” the woman smiled, “God, that sounds so cliché…”

“I suppose it does.  Continuing the cliché then, would you like to tell me about it?”

“Sure, why not,” the woman shrugged, “In a nutshell, my boyfriend just told me his family is coming over for Thanksgiving.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Well, you’d think since his is a small family, like just him, his brother and dad, it’d be pretty mellow.  But no, they bicker all the time when they’re together.”

“Then why does he want them to come over?”

“He thinks it’ll help bury the hatchet or something.  Holiday spirits and all that.”

“What hatchet needs burying?”

“His dad wasn’t too pleased to find out about me.”

“Why not?  You seem like a good person.”

The woman dipped her head with a smile before looking up again.

“I’m, uh…just not his dad’s cup of tea.  We’ve been dating for almost two years now, but he didn’t tell his dad until this past summer.  That went horrible, which is why he waited so long to tell him.  If he’d told his dad when we started dating, he still would’ve had the same reaction.  The only difference would’ve been that I wouldn’t keep dating him.”

“Is his dad really that bad?”

Castiel set the drink on the bar, careful not to spill it since he’d filled the glass just a little bit too much.  The woman took it gratefully and downed nearly half of it in one drink.

“Oh yeah.  I tried to be understanding, because they haven’t had the easiest life.  But still…”

“What about his brother?” Castiel asked.

“His brother’s…interesting.”

“In a good way or bad?”

“Good way, I guess.  He does get himself in trouble from time to time, but it’s almost always innocent trouble.”

“Does he approve of you?”

“Yeah, he does.  He’s a good older brother, anything that makes Sam, my boyfriend, happy, makes him happy too.”

“Well, that sounds like its two against one, in your favor.  I’m sure your Thanksgiving will go better than expected.”

“Thanks….?”

“Castiel.”

“Castiel, interesting name.  I’m Jessica,” Jessica introduced.

Jessica finished off her drink, setting it down with a sigh and leaning back.

“I should probably go see if any store still has any big turkeys left this close to Thanksgiving.  They all eat a ton in one sitting, sometimes I’m amazed they aren’t bigger,” Jessica laughed.

“Will you be alright to drive?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, it’s just one drink,” Jessica pointed out with a smile, “But thank you.”

Castiel nodded as she left the money for the drink on the counter and hopped off the bar stool.  She seemed nice enough, in his few minutes of talking to her.  He couldn’t imagine anyone’s dad being angry their son was dating someone like her.  He picked up the money and brought it over to the till, then froze upon realizing that Thanksgiving was _tomorrow_.  Gabriel and Kali would be at his house tomorrow.  The house a skinwalker had taken a liking to and the house that was currently very low on food because of said skinwalker.

Castiel cursed under his breath, knowing he’d now have to go grocery shopping the day before Thanksgiving.  He really didn’t want to go shopping with the massive crowd of other people who’d waited until the last minute, but now he had no choice.  Castiel just shook his head with a sigh, closing the till and going back to take up Jessica’s glass.  He was glad that Gabriel had volunteered to bring the turkey, but at the same time, he said he’d buy it after he’d crossed the mountains.  Gabriel was going to have just as hard of a time finding one as Jessica, maybe harder.   

But the more important matter at hand was Dean.  He wouldn’t mind having Dean stay for Thanksgiving dinner, even though it would mean he would have to cook tons of food.  But it was that Gabriel would no doubt drill both him and Dean about, well, Dean.  He’d want to know who he was, where he came from, how they met, spew off all kinds of implications…  Castiel couldn’t see that going anywhere good.  He’d have to find a way to politely tell Dean that he couldn’t come to the house while Gabriel and Kali were there.  He rubbed a hand down his face with a sigh, thinking of how to phrase it.

By the end of his shift, he hadn’t come up with anything.  Nor had he thought of anything by the time he got to the grocery store.  It took him forever just to find a parking spot and the second he walked through the doors, he knew he’d be there for no less than an hour and half.  He went up and down the aisles, picking what he needed off the shelves as quickly as he could, like a number of other people were doing.  The sooner they could get to the checkout, the better.  He tried to ignore snippets of conversations he heard; ones complaining about in-laws, getting up early, how busy the store was, the price of things, what to buy and what not to buy.  But there was one conversation that stuck out from the rest.

“—cause we are not bringing a bloody bird to Jessica’s apartment.”

Castiel hummed in amusement to himself, assuming whoever was on the other side of the aisle might just happen to be the boyfriend of the girl who’d been in the Roadhouse just a couple hours ago.  She must not have had any luck finding a turkey.

“Not bloody.  Hanging up now.”

Castiel froze. 

“Oh?  Did you already pick its feathers and gut it and everything?”

“No.  Do later.  Do now if we leave.”

That was Dean.  He’d never mistake that timbre of voice and diction.  Castiel did his best not to sprint down the aisle to get to the other side, but there was just something about Dean being in a grocery store that struck his curiosity so deeply.  Just as he rounded the corner, he saw two men disappearing around the opposite end.  By the time he got to that end, he had no idea where they’d gone.  He walked up and down the aisles, now more keen on finding Dean than what he needed for Thanksgiving dinner.  Occasionally, he’d catch just a short phrase or sentence from Dean or Sam, mostly about their father or Jessica.  But he never managed to actually catch them.

When twenty minutes went by without hearing either of their voices, Castiel decided he’d lost them.  He reluctantly went to the checkout lines, but kept glancing around in hopes of seeing them.  The lines were long and Dean was fairly noticeable; at least, Castiel thought.  Dean wasn’t exactly small.  But the only particularly tall person Castiel saw was a younger man with somewhat messy brown hair paying at another checkout line.  He knitted his brows together, wondering if that was Sam.  He’d only caught a glimpse of him, but maybe it was.  Then again, if it was, where was Dean?  Already gone?

He scowled inwardly in annoyance and tried to keep his mind from it.  After nearly thirty minutes in the checkout, Castiel was finally loading the groceries into his truck and driving home.  The question from earlier of what Dean did all day was practically assaulting him by the time he got home.  He’d gotten as far as bringing all the groceries in the house and putting about a quarter of them away when he heard the back door open.  When he turned around, Dean was standing in the kitchen doorway with a large, mostly feathered and gutted turkey, in his hand.

“Want?” Dean offered.

There was a slight tone of irritation in his voice, but Castiel knew it wasn’t aimed at him.  It was aimed at Sam.

“Um, y-yeah, just put it in the sink for now,” Castiel answered.

Dean looked slightly relieved as he moved over to the sink, lifting the bird and setting in the sink as though it didn’t weigh near as much as it looked.

“Did not want to waste,” Dean said, “Brother—“

“Said you couldn’t take it to Jessica’s?” Castiel guessed.

The look of sheer confusion and sudden wariness on Dean’s face was rivaled by Castiel’s own confusion at why he’d said that.

“How know?” Dean asked cautiously.

“I, uh…heard you and Sam at the grocery store, not too long ago.”

Rather than be offended at being eavesdropped on, it seemed the admission answered a question in Dean’s mind.

“Thought you were there.  Brother not let me look.  Said no time.”

Castiel eyed Dean as he took to plucking the remaining handful of feathers from the turkey.  He was wearing just the usual robe now, but Castiel wondered what he’d been wearing at the store.  Castiel shook his head, that question wasn’t important right now.  Or ever, really.  The one that was important was the one that had been bothering him almost all day.

“Can I ask you something?” Castiel asked.

“Did.”

Castiel’s mouth fell part way open, Dean just grinned at him.

“You— Okay,” Castiel nodded, “Um, what is it you do?  Like, for fun or whatever?”

Dean tilted his head.

“You do do other—“

Dean smiled again.

“You’re not a child,” Castiel deadpanned, “What else do you do besides hunting or exploring or whatever?”

“Um… Not sure.  Sometimes go to big town with Sam, sometimes alone.”

“What do you do?”

“Alone?  Explore, play with things.  Not many people like.”

“Can’t say I really blame them,” Castiel shrugged.

Dean scowled at Castiel as he very deliberately plucked the last feather from the turkey.  Castiel opened his mouth to defend himself, but Dean had already let it go.

“Other times go see Jey-skah with Sam.  Very nice, like her.”

Dean paused and looked around the kitchen, eyes flicking between the bird and possible places to put it.  Castiel was about to tell him to just put it in the fridge, but then he wasn’t sure an entire twenty-plus pound bird would fit in there.  He walked over to the fridge and began rearranging everything in it to make room.

“Is Jessica a skinwalker too?” Castiel asked.

“No, Jey-skah human.”

Then it clicked in Castiel’s head what she’d meant when she said she wasn’t their father’s cup of tea.  It was because she was human.  Now, he had more questions for Dean.

“Is that…a normal thing?  Skinwalkers and humans?”

“Mm-hmm, more normal than you think,” Dean answered, “Humans and skinwalkers always together.”

“What do you mean?”

“Skinwalkers used to protect humans.  Packs of skinwalkers protect tribes of humans from other creatures.”

Castiel stepped aside when he’d made enough room and put something down for the turkey.  Dean picked the bird up and brought it over, easily fitting it into the space.  It could be stuffed and basted later.

“Tribes?  Like the Navajo and Kansa?”

Castiel only guessed those two because they were the only ones Dean had mentioned, he didn’t know if every other tribe was involved or not.

“Yes.  Skinwalkers protect humans, humans give place to live and feed.  Humans like to tell stories about skinwalkers.  Many stories about skinwalkers saving humans or adventures or fall in love.  But humans no tell stories anymore.”

Dean walked off towards the living room and Castiel followed.  Dean casually sprawled out on the couch like it was his own, which, at this point, it may as well be.  He’d been coming and going like it was his home too for almost two weeks now.  The couch and the floor by the heater were his two favorite spots.  Castiel sat down on the opposite end of the couch, in the space Dean had intentionally left him.

“Why not?” Castiel asked.

“Because humans start hunting us.  Not ones skinwalkers protect, ones from otherside of ocean.  Almost kill all skinwalkers.  Then humans had to protect skinwalkers,” Dean gave a short laugh at the irony, “Humans offer safe place for any skinwalkers on ray-zer-vay-shuns.”

“Do you live on a reservation?”

Dean shook his head.

“Live in wilds, Dad not like humans,” Dean replied.

“But he’s going to dinner to you, Sam and Jessica?”

Dean cocked his head, staring at Castiel.

“Sorry, I met Jessica earlier today and she kind of told me.”

“Oh.  Well, is Sam’s idea.  Thinks Dad just need to talk and see Jey-skah nice.  Didn’t give her chance last time.”

“Last time…was during the summer?”

Dean nodded.

“Is that what the fight was about?  The one you were gone for a long time for?”

Dean nodded again.

“Sam and Dad fight lot,” Dean said, “Always have to break up.  Fighting not stop til Sam leave to stay with Jey-skah.”

“Oh…I’m sorry.”

Dean hummed and stretched out, pushing Castiel’s thigh with his heel.  But he quickly retracted his leg when Castiel’s phone vibrated in his pocket.  Castiel grinned in amusement at Dean’s indignant expression and pulled his phone out.  It flashed with a text notification from Gabriel.

_‘Heya, bro!  You ready for us tomorrow?’_

Castiel rolled his eyes.

_‘Yes, I have plenty of food.  And candy for you.’_

_‘Awesome :) me and Kali will probably get there around noon.’_

_‘I will be here.’_

_‘Course you will ;) ‘_

_‘Oh, you and Kali don’t need to worry about the turkey.’_

_‘Caaaaaaas did you go buy one?  I said I’d get it.’_

_‘No, I did not buy one.  I have a friend who is a hunter.  It was an extra.’_

He felt less strange calling Dean his friend now than before. 

_‘Guess we owe him a drink or something, savin’ us like $30.  Alrighty then, we’ll just bring ourselves.’_

Castiel didn’t bother replying to the message after that.  He put his phone on silent and stuffed it back into his pocket.  The short conversation had reminded him that Dean couldn’t, well, shouldn’t be here tomorrow.  Although, since he was apparently going to Jessica’s, it shouldn’t be a problem.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized Dean knew when to be scarce and never changed around other people.  Castiel was the only exception, since he’d caught Dean purely on a fluke.  He decided then he didn’t really need to say anything about the matter.

Which was good because Dean looked like he was starting to nod off.  It had to just be the softness of the couch and warmth of the house.  He probably got the most rest here; compared to living in ‘the wilds’, Castiel’s house must be like heaven to Dean.  Castiel watched him drift deeper into sleep, amused by the little twitches and light snoring coming from him.

He didn’t know how long he watched Dean, but at some point, he’d fallen asleep on the couch as well.  When he woke up, Dean was gone and the robe was in a pile by the door.  Castiel checked his phone, seeing three new texts from Gabriel.  One indicating they were leaving, one that they were in the mountains, one saying they’d be there in about two hours.  Castiel looked at the time on his phone and started to panic.  He wasn’t sure what to do first, but a shower and new change of clothes seemed like a good idea.  After that, he decided he should probably start preparing the turkey.  With how big it was, unnecessarily big, it would take the better part of five hours or more to cook.  It was about the time Castiel was almost done stuffing it that noon rolled around.  And with it, Gabriel and Kali.  Kali must’ve been the one in charge of getting them there, Gabriel usually wasn’t that punctual.

He heard the front door open and quietly cursed himself for not locking the doors; having Dean around forged that bad habit.

“Hey, Cassie!  I’m hooooome~!” Gabriel chimed.

“Hello, Gabriel,” Castiel called from the kitchen.

Gabriel and Kali followed the sound of his voice, glancing around as they came to the kitchen.

“Hey— Oh, holy smokes, that is big bird,” Gabriel noted.

“Yes, it is,” Castiel grumbled.

“Was that really necessary?” Kali asked, “Are there more people joining us?”

“No and no,” Castiel replied, “My friend just, uh, went a bit overboard.”

“You’re gonna be eatin’ turkey sandwiches til New Year’s,” Gabriel laughed.

Castiel cracked a smile at that.  Not because he thought Gabriel’s joke was all that funny, but because he knew the second Dean came back, whatever was left of the turkey would be gone in minutes. 

“Is there anything you’d like help with?” Kali offered.

“No, I think I’ve got it.  It’s not much, I just didn’t start until a little while ago,” Castiel admitted, “Plus, you both just came five hundred miles, I’m sure you’d rather relax.”

“Gabriel might,” Kali snipped playfully.

“Damn right, all that way and doing nothin’,” Gabriel agreed.

“But I would like work some of the stiffness out,” Kali continued.

As soon as Gabriel opened his mouth, both Castiel and Kali cut him off.  They already knew what he was going to say.  Gabriel held up his hands in defense and strolled off to the living room, taking a seat while Kali found a way to help Castiel prepare the food.  He’d been right, it wasn’t much, but he was grateful for the help.  With everything now in the oven, Gabriel nagged Castiel for a tour of the house.  He felt awkward doing it and wasn’t sure how anyone could feel otherwise when giving tours of their home.  But they both seemed to like his house; Kali even made an off-handed remark about how much bigger it was than Gabriel’s.  When they came back to the living room, Gabriel’s eyes locked on a spot by the door.  It only took Castiel a second to realize what he was looking at.

“Why’s there a bathrobe by the door…?” Gabriel asked, “Y’like to sit outside half naked or something?”

“I don’t— No.  I do not,” Castiel stated, “I slept on the couch last night, so I just left it there.”

“By the _door_?”

“Yes.”

Gabriel strode over to the door and picked up the robe.  He made a puzzled face and sniffed it, recoiling and looking at Castiel for an answer.

“Why’s it smell like trees?  And wet dog?”

Now Kali was staring at him for an answer as well.

“I— uh…. It probably hasn’t been washed in a while.”

That was true, it hadn’t.  But it was still a lame explanation and Gabriel and Kali clearly thought the same.  Castiel quickly changed the subject to some other small talk to distract them, taking the robe from Gabriel and throwing it in the pile of laundry in his room.  Thankfully, that’d been the only thing of Dean they’d found. 

Dinner went smoothly enough, not that there were many complications that could arise.  Castiel had always gotten along with Gabriel; in the sense that he was the only one of their family who tolerated him.  But, in return, Gabriel usually left Castiel out of his mischievous pranks and settled for teasing.  Kali was plenty nice enough as well and fairly laid back.  She’d have to be to date Gabriel.

The rest of the night was spent with Gabriel telling Castiel about all the latest drama happening within their family, since Castiel did his best to keep out of it.  There wasn’t really much new; Michael and Lucifer still bickered _all the time_.  Their cousin, Balthazar, had gone on some boat ‘expedition’, which was more than likely a party cruise.  And their younger brother, Samandriel, had just gotten his first job at a fast food place.  Castiel was proud of Samandriel for that, given he was just now old enough to even get a job, but the rest…he couldn’t bring himself to care too much.  But Gabriel kept talking and telling stories until he could barely keep his eyes open. 

It didn’t take much convincing from Castiel to get him to go to bed.  Kali had gone to sleep about an hour before.  Castiel stayed up a little longer to take care of at least some of the dishes, but truth be told, he was hoping that maybe Dean might sneak by.  Castiel’s head snapped to the side when he heard scratching at the kitchen door, but relaxed when he saw emerald green eyes peer over the window of the door.  He opened the door, letting Dean in.  He took only a few cautious steps in, keeping his head low and looking around as he sniffed the air.  He’d no doubt seen Gabriel’s car out front and had become wary.

“It’s just my brother and his girlfriend,” Castiel said, “They’re asleep now.”

Dean relaxed, but didn’t shift.  Instead, he just trotted into the kitchen and started looking around for something.  He kept surprisingly quiet as he searched through the kitchen for something.

“What’re you looking for?”

At that, Dean did shift.  He started for where he’d left the robe, but from his view in the kitchen, he saw it wasn’t there.  He gave a slight huff at that and turned to Castiel.

“Pie?” Dean asked.

“’Pie’?” Castiel repeated, “I didn’t bake any.”

Dean groaned and spun dramatically on his heels as he stalked off to the living room and dropped on the couch.  One sniff of ‘his spot’ and he made a face of disgust; ironically, Gabriel had been sitting in his spot earlier.

“Don’t like smell,” Dean stated.

Castiel bit his lip and shook his head as he took his own spot.  However, his amusement quickly subsided and was replaced with mild concern as he noticed the small scratches, nicks and bruises brushed over his skin.  He swallowed thickly, already knowing the answer to the question he was about to ask.

“So…Thanksgiving didn’t go well?”

“Better than thought,” Dean shrugged.

“Well, if you want, uh, there’s plenty of leftover food.  Mostly turkey.”

Dean looked borderline offended there was still turkey left.  Castiel ran a hand down his face, remembering what had happened the last time Dean decided he hadn’t eaten enough of the food Dean brought.

“I promise I’ll eat more,” Castiel sighed, “I just don’t eat as much as you in one sitting.  I don’t think anyone does.”

Dean gave him a skeptical look before shrugging again and settling into the couch.  Castiel had expected more of a fight than that.  The distance settling in Dean’s eyes told him whatever had happened at Jessica’s must’ve been worse than Dean was letting on.

“After Gabriel and Kali leave, I’ll bake a pie…just for you,” Castiel offered.

Dean perked up at that, some of the heaviness lifting from him. 

“What kind?” Dean asked.

“Whatever you want.”

“Pey-khan.”

Pecan pie it was, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i had this chapter like a quarter of the way done for weeks, but then decided the other day it sucked. so i rewrote and figured 'well since thanksgiving's this week, let's have a thanksgiving chapter' and i thought about making it some big comedy type thing idk but no. that didn't happen. and there was a scene i wanted to do, with the pie actually, for this chapter but i moved it to the next chapter
> 
> basically this one's purpose was to introduce other characters...and the fact that dean does other stuff...sometimes...
> 
> thoughts, comments, feels?


	10. Pecan Pie

True to their word, Gabriel and Kali only stayed for two days.  Gabriel had wanted to stay three, which Castiel had agreed to, but being that it was much colder than he expected, he was alright with just two.  That, and the fact it was snowing in the pass and they didn’t want to get stuck on the wrong side.  Both nights, Dean was brave enough to still come over.  Castiel was worried he’d caught, either as a naked man in the house or a giant wolf or giant wolf turning into a naked man.  But Dean was only ever there during the nights, after Gabriel and Kali had gone to sleep and was always gone before they woke up.  Castiel should’ve known better; Dean was practically an expert at not getting caught, it was only a fluke that he’d caught him. 

As soon as their car was out of sight, Castiel heard the back door opening.  Dean came in with snow clinging to his hair and melting down his shoulders and was quick to wrap himself up in what was now his robe.  Castiel decided the other night it was no longer his own.  He shuddered when he felt the cold breeze make its way over to him; a quick glance at his phone promptly told him it was only four degrees outside at the moment.  He wrapped his arms tighter around himself, tucking his hands into his sleeves and making a mental note that he really needed to get his heaters repaired.  Dean walked over to the couch and sat in his spot, curling up and looking at Castiel with an almost expectant look.

“Pie?” Dean asked eagerly.

“Oh, that’s right…” Castiel remembered, “Pecan, right?”

Dean nodded excitedly.

Castiel pushed himself up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, soon followed by Dean.  He went through the pantry and cabinets to gather all the ingredients and found he was only missing one; pecans.  Castiel sighed, because _of course_ it would be the pecans he was missing.

“I have to go to the store—“

“Can come with?”

“I— What?”

“Can come with?” Dean repeated.

“If you want to… B-but you’ll need something else to wear,” Castiel replied.

He knew Dean had clothes, he had to.  He went shopping with Sam just a few days ago.  However, those clothes were not here. 

“Borrow?” Dean asked.

Castiel hesitated; partially because he wasn’t a fan of loaning his clothes to people and partially because he didn’t think his clothes would fit Dean.  Castiel wasn’t small or slim, but he also wasn’t as tall or broad as Dean.

“If you can find something that fits,” Castiel answered reluctantly.

Dean disappeared from the kitchen and down the hall, knowing exactly where he was going.  He could distantly hear Dean rummaging through his closet, but it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would.  When Dean came back, he almost had to wonder if it was even his clothes Dean was wearing.  He’d forgotten about the graphic _Metallica_ tee and that pair of faded jeans, probably because both were too big on him.  But they looked almost perfect on Dean.

“Boots small,” Dean commented.

“Uh, yes, well…I imagine they would be.  But it’ll be a short trip, they won’t bother you too much, right?”

Dean shook his head.

Castiel shrugged and led the way out of the house.  Dean brushed past him to the truck and tried opening the door, only to find it locked.  He gave Castiel a pleading face and tried a few more times.  Of course, every time he tried was when Castiel tried to unlock the door for him and it got them nowhere fast.  Castiel gave up on that, hearing a whine from Dean while he climbed in his side.  He leaned over and manually unlocked the door for Dean.  He hopped in immediately and fumbled with the seat belt.  Castiel didn’t wait for him to get it right, he just started the truck and left; Dean would probably give him an impatient look if he did.  On the drive there, Dean decided he didn’t like the radio station Castiel had on.  In his defense, they were only talking.  It was all about the weather and Thanksgiving football game.  Dean pressed at the buttons, having only a tiny idea of what he was doing, until he managed to land on a station that was actually playing music.  He sat back happily as classic rock filled the cab. 

When they got to the store, Castiel could see Dean making an effort to stay calm and not run ahead; but he was walking quickly.  He made a bee-line straight for the baking aisle and scanned up and down the shelves in search of pecans.  The bags were designed just so that you couldn’t tell what was in them at a glance, they had to be read.  Evidently, that wasn’t Dean’s strong suit.  He ended up picking up a few bags and shaking them around to see what they held.  Cashews, almonds, walnuts, macadamia…  Castiel cleared his throat to get Dean’s attention and flitted his eyes towards a particular bag.  Dean snatched it up, finding it held pecans.  He beamed and led Castiel back towards the checkout. 

Castiel was a little confused when Dean chose to stand in a checkout with a line; not only that, but a checkout that wasn’t an express.  Dean caught onto Castiel’s confusion.

“Like her best,” Dean said.

Castiel leaned to the side to see the cashier, a young girl who looked like she probably wanted to be somewhere else.  This did nothing for his confusion.  She smiled a couple times at a few customers; her smile being on the line of genuine and ‘I have to smile’.  But when she saw Dean, she smiled brightly.  She teased him lightly about coming with someone who wasn’t Sam or Jessica and when he said that Castiel had promised to make him pie, she actually looked a little impressed.  They talked back and forth while Castiel paid and he got the feeling that she knew just as much about Dean as he did, probably even more.  He could try to deny the twinge of jealousy he felt all he wanted, but it was there nonetheless.

Once he paid and they were leaving, she gave them— well, she gave Dean a small wave goodbye, which he returned as he followed Castiel out.     

The air outside was well below freezing, he was sure it was down in the single digits again.  He couldn’t stop shivering the whole drive home, meanwhile Dean shuddered only once.  Maybe twice.  Castiel silently cursed himself for not wearing a warmer jacket and cursed Dean for being ‘used to it’.

By the time they got back home, Dean was practically herding Castiel inside; not that it took much, he was already walking quickly to get out of the cold.  After they crossed the threshold of the front door, Dean strode ahead of him and waited anxiously in the kitchen.  Castiel rolled his eyes with a small smile; Dean wanted pie _right now_ and he wasn’t going to wait much longer. 

As soon as he started making the pie, Dean was on him.  He was hovering over Castiel’s shoulder, like when he’d made the salmon, but far worse.  It really was like having a dog in the kitchen that always got under your feet.  After about the fourth time he bumped into Dean in less than ten minutes, Castiel finally stopped and just looked at him.

 “Did Jessica not make any pie for Thanksgiving?” Castiel asked.

“No.  Jey-skah always promises, but never makes.  Why?”

“Because you’re acting like you haven’t eaten pie in the last five years.”

Dean glanced down sheepishly and Castiel realized that it probably had been a long time since he’d had pie.

 “When was the last time you had pie?” Castiel asked.

 “Um…don’t remember,” Dean shrugged.

For someone to love pie so much and be so excited for it, Castiel didn’t think there was any way he couldn’t remember.  Castiel thought about pushing it, but the look on Dean’s face told him he probably shouldn’t. 

“Well…back up a little so I don’t keep running into you,” Castiel said, “I can it done faster that way.”

Dean nodded happily and moved the side of the kitchen.  Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel could see it was taking a physical effort not to come hover around him again.  He was glad Dean was holding back, it really did go faster now.  But when Castiel turned to get the pie tin was when Dean’s effort crumbled.  He strode across the kitchen quickly and swiped up two fingers of filling, not even trying to be discreet.  Castiel just stood and stared with the pie tin in his hands.

 “Sorry,” Dean mumbled.

He slinked back to his previous spot, not really sorry at all.  Castiel scowled, giving him a warning glare over his shoulder before he started putting the dough in the pie tin.  He checked over his shoulder a few times until he had the bowl of filling in his hands and was pouring it in.  As soon as it was in the oven, Dean was hovering again; though time focused on the oven and not Castiel.

 “Watched pot never boils,” Castiel commented.

Dean tensed at his words, but kept his attention fixed on the oven.  Castiel eyed him suspiciously before deciding again to let the matter go.  He went to the living and sat down, pulling out his phone to entertain himself with, since Dean was clearly focused on the oven.  About five or ten minutes later, he heard Dean make an annoyed noise before he trudged into the living room and dropped on the couch beside Castiel.  He fidgeted with his fingers for a few seconds before leaning over to peer at Castiel’s phone.  If it were anyone else, that would’ve bothered Castiel to no end.  But it was Dean and, for some reason, he didn’t mind.  They both ended up watching videos online, ones Castiel found amusing and Dean found confusing, but ultimately also funny.

When the oven finally signaled the pie was done, Dean all but (accidentally) shoved Castiel into the couch as he ran to the kitchen.  It took Castiel a second to right himself and follow after him, only to find his searching through the kitchen for something to grab the hot pie tin with.  Castiel rolled his eyes, picking up two towels in the corner of the counter.  He used one to shoo Dean away from the oven before opening the door.  The blast of heat was welcomed with how cold it was outside; Castiel didn’t even try to hide his momentary relishment.  Then Dean was crowding him again, excited to finally have a slice of pie after however long. 

“You know you can’t have any right now, right?”

Castiel shooed him back again.

“Why?”

He fixed him with a stare of disbelief until it clicked in Dean’s brain that the pie was too hot.  He groaned in annoyance and trudged back to the living room, flopping down once more on the couch.  Castiel shook his head, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and setting on the window sill to protect it from the heated metal.  The pie would cool much faster sitting next to the icy window.  He walked back into the living room and, seeing Dean sprawled out face down, swatted at his legs.  Dean lifted them enough to leave a spot for Castiel to sit.  The second Castiel sat down, Dean dropped his legs again, effectively trapping Castiel. 

He sat there for a moment, unsure of what to do.  He ended up just sitting there for a little while until he checked his phone to see how long it had been; long enough for the pie to now be edible.

“You can have some now,” Castiel announced.

Again, he found himself being wedged into the couch as Dean scrambled and made for the kitchen. 

“Oh my god, you’d think it was drugs…” Castiel muttered to himself.

Dean had managed to find plates and was currently going through every drawer in search of something to cut and serve the pie.  Castiel brought the pie back over just as Dean found the knives and forks.  He made quick work of slicing the pie, but was having a bit of trouble actually serving it.  Castiel took the knife and fork from him, telling him to go sit down.  When he brought Dean his plate, he hadn’t bothered with silverware.  One time was enough to learn that Dean didn’t really do silverware.

Dean started for the pie, intent on picking up with his hands, but froze just before grabbing it.  There was an odd expression on his face like he suddenly remembered something and all his previous excitement drained.

“What’s wrong?”

“…Can have fork?” Dean asked quietly.

“Uh, sure.”

Castiel scooted back and stood up, going to the drawer to retrieve a fork.  Dean kept his eyes on the plate until Castiel set the fork down beside it; even then Dean only glanced up at him for a second.

“Thank you,” Dean mumbled.

Castiel stood there stunned.  He may have only said two words, but there was no trace of hindrance or impediment whatsoever.  Castiel continued to stare at him as he started eating, this time having no difficulty like he’d had trying to the silverware with the salmon.  He was eating like a perfectly normal person, albeit a bit solemnly.  Castiel went back to his chair and fumbled his own fork as he kept watching Dean, waiting for something to happen.  But nothing did, he just ate his pie.  He finished it about the same time as Castiel did and looked up with a lighter expression.

 “Can…I have ‘nother slice?” Dean asked, “Please?”

Castiel couldn’t stop his mouth from falling part way open.  Dean shifted under his gaze, becoming self-conscious.  It took almost a full thirty seconds for Castiel snap back.  Of course, he gave Dean another slice.  Part way through it, Castiel decided he was not going to let this go.

“I have a question,” Castiel blurted.

Dean looked up, narrowing his eyes in slight confusion.

“What, um…” Castiel made a face, thinking how to phrase the question, “Why the sudden shift in behavior?  And talking?”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, stalling slightly on each word.

“That.  That right there.  This whole time I’ve known you, you haven’t spoken a proper sentence,” Castiel said, “And you’ve never acted…down before.”

“Nothing,” Dean replied shortly.

“Dean, please.”

Dean just shrugged and went back to eating his pie.  Castiel sighed, rubbing a hand down the side of his face.

“I just want to know, that’s all.”

It looked like Dean considered it for a moment, but he ended up just shaking his head.  He continued to eat, beginning to stall on each bite.  Castiel knew he wasn’t full, he could probably eat half the kitchen.  When he lifted his head again, Castiel could see his eyes glassed over and glittering with restrained emotions.  He finished off the last bite before rising to his feet and spinning on his heels, quickly leaving the kitchen.  Castiel pushed his plate aside and scrambled to follow.  He was met with a shirt thrown at him, followed by pants two seconds later, then a blast of cold winter air.  Castiel threw the clothes aside, as Dean had meant to, and caught the door before it shut—

“Dean!”

—but not before the wolf was disappearing over the fence.

Castiel shivered violently at the cold air.  He reluctantly shut the door and moved over to the window, pressing against the glass to see if he might catch sight of Dean.  But he saw nothing but his snow covered backyard and tracks.  There was a pang of guilt in his stomach as he shifted his weight and retreated to the couch.  He sat there restlessly, fidgeting with his phone of the hem of his shirt, occasionally checking over his shoulder to the window.

Hours later and nothing much had changed, except that he was now idly pacing the living room because his phone had died and he hadn’t bothered to plug it in.  Castiel’s feet began to feel sore from pacing barefoot for so long and his eyelids drooped.  He kept hoping Dean would come back, but he didn’t.  Castiel hung his head and turned to go to his room.

He flipped on the light and heater as he stripped down to get into his pajamas.  About two minutes after he turned the light off and crawled under the blankets, there was a loud clunking sound.  His heart skipped a beat, hoping that it was Dean, but the complete silence that followed told him it wasn’t.  His bedroom heater had just broken.  Castiel made a noise that half groaning and half whining as he fell back onto the pillows and pulled the blankets up.  He could already feel the cold beginning to seep into his room.  The more time went by, the worse it got.

Castiel shivered and curled the blankets tighter.  There were not enough blankets in the world to make him feel warm enough now.  He thought about getting up to put on more layers, or at least socks, but that involved actually getting up and exposing himself to the cold room.  That was not going to happen.  Without warning, he felt the bed dip dramatically.  He bolted upright to find Dean, the very large wolf, standing awkwardly at the edge.  He lowered his head and looked at him with reproachful eyes.  There was nothing that really needed to be said, Castiel just braced himself for the cold as he threw back the comforter and extra fleece blanket; he kept the sheet blanket around himself. 

Dean crawled forward and nosed his way under the two blankets as much as he could before Castiel threw them back in place.  Dean’s fur was a little frosty from the cold, but only for a moment.  Then Castiel suddenly had his own personal bed-heater that made it perfect to fall asleep in.  It took a considerable amount of effort not to snuggle right up next to Dean, but at some point during the night, that effort failed.  Castiel was partially aware of it, but was too tired to care.  He buried himself against Dean’s soft, warm fur; even daring to turn towards Dean and haphazardly throw his arm around Dean’s .

To say it was a good night’s sleep would be an understatement.  Even when the heater had worked, he hadn’t slept so soundly.  It was only a hot puff of breath on his face and the feeling of claws lightly scraping his side that woke him up.  He slowly blinked his eyes open to see Dean still asleep and dreaming, occasionally huffing and twitching.  He’d turned onto his side, facing Castiel, and had once again trapped him under a leg.  Castiel lazily rolled his eyes with a deep breath and resettled himself against Dean.  What really woke him up a few minutes later was an almost thunderous rumbling that vibrated against his head.  His eyes snapped open and he recoiled back in fear, bumping Dean’s jaw.

He propped himself and froze, watching Dean’s ears and lips twitch.  A breath later, he heard the rumbling again; Dean growling in his sleep.  Up to this point, Dean hadn’t done anything that truly scared Castiel.  This made him extremely nervous.  Obviously, it had to be a nightmare of some kind, but he didn’t know what to do.  Ordinarily, he’d just wake the person up.  Ordinarily, it would be a _person_ and not a giant wolf.  A person might hit him, but a wolf might break his arm; if it was being merciful. 

Castiel scooted back a little further, just to move out of the range of Dean’s claws.  He’d just let Dean wake up on his own.  Castiel threw his legs over the edge of the bed and moved to get up, but stopped when he heard a growl go higher in pitch, becoming a whine.  He looked over his shoulder at Dean, having curled in on himself somewhat with ears flat and aborted huffs that became soft whines and whimpers.  Castiel swallowed thickly and moved closer again, hesitantly reaching out and gently scratching below Dean’s ear.  He flinched at the touch and nuzzled his head into the pillow, but the whimpers and growls subsided and were replaced with light snores.  Castiel smiled to himself as he continued scratching, then a minute later, rubbing his thumb over the side of Dean’s face.  He could feel all the muscles and sharp teeth below the skin and couldn’t help but wonder if Dean had been in any fights before…

Castiel kept rubbing the side of Dean’s face, eventually moving to his neck, shoulder and ribs.  About a half hour later, Dean lazily blinked his eyes open, perking one ear upon realizing Castiel’s touch.  Castiel pulled back as he righted himself and shook before sitting up and stretching; he rolled his eyes at the drawn out stretch.

“You want breakfast?” Castiel offered.

Dean nodded.

Castiel pushed himself off the bed with a sigh, leaving the room as he heard Dean’s bones cracking and shifting again.  Castiel went through the kitchen, deciding what to make.  Definitely a hot breakfast, it was still freezing outside.  Cream of wheat with a side of toast sounded good and, more importantly, easy.  Dean walked into the kitchen just as Castiel finished making it, once again wearing his robe.  His eyes flicked from the breakfast to Castiel, his expression immediately changing to the same one the pie had brought on.  Castiel clenched his jaw to keep from asking, he didn’t want to end up with Dean sitting outside sulking again.

But rather than start in on his food, Dean just sat there with a spoon in his hand and stared at it.  Castiel pointedly ignored it as Dean fiddled with his spoon.  Then Dean sighed and set it down, glancing up at Castiel.

“Haven’t had this…or pie since mo- my mom…died,” Dean admitted.

“Oh…I, uh, I’m sorry—“

“Not fa— Not your fault,” Dean spoke with deliberation on each word, “Always— she always, um, corrected…my sentences.  English not— uh, isn’t our language.”

Castiel could see the concentration on Dean’s face as he spoke, trying to remember proper English.  There was a moment of tense silence.

“What is?” Castiel asked.

“Sioux.  Well, _ours_ was.  Depends where fr— you’re from,” Dean answered, “But I— learned the other languages.  More useful than English.”

“Really?”

Dean nodded.

“Skinwalkers always used the language of tribes they protected.  Still do.  English is still new to us,” Dean said, “But my mom wanted me to learn.”

Castiel knitted his brows together at ‘ _me_ ’.  Dean picked up on that and shifted uneasily, choosing to fiddle with his spoon again.

“She…died when Sammy was little.  Couldn’t even crawl yet,” Dean mumbled.

“Did you teach him then?”

“Tried to.  Dad didn’t like it.  I wasn’t good either,” Dean shrugged, “Jey-skah taught him better.”

That seemed to bother Dean a little bit, judging by how he scowled at the bowl of food.  He twirled the spoon a couple times before finally forcing himself to start eating.  Now it was Castiel who was simply staring at his food.  Dean looked up from his breakfast, bumping the table to gain Castiel’s attention.  He shook his head, snapping back to reality.  He offered a small smile as began eating again.  The rest of breakfast went in silence, the kind Castiel wanted to break, but didn’t know how.  Castiel tried talking about anything that might lighten Dean’s mood.  It took a little while, but eventually the heavier atmosphere lifted.  Dean even talked a little more about his family, here and there when it was relevant to what Castiel said.  Gradually, it became Dean just talking about his family and Castiel couldn’t be more interested.

Dean’s mother, Mary, had been the light and center of Dean’s life.  By the way Dean’s eyes lit up when he talked about her, she still was.  She’d come from a family of skinwalkers who had wanted to keep to their old ways; staying in native American land, speaking the local language, protecting the community, keeping either to themselves or only socializing with natives who still believed in them.  But she’d wanted Dean, and of course, Sam, to have a different life.  John, Dean’s father, agreed with her on that.  He’d come from a family that was sociable with humans, though still cautious, and adaptive to the changing times. 

They lived in a town nestled between the Kansa and Kiowa lands; a town called Lawrence.  John and Mary didn’t want to let go of traditions completely, so Dean grew up speaking Siouan; Kansa’s language.  It was around the time he was getting ready to start preschool that Mary and John had started teaching him English.  He was a fast learner, speaking the language just as well as kids his age in only a couple months.

Dean skirted around the incident involving Mary’s death, not saying what happened.  But afterwards, he was abruptly pulled from school; and home.  John had made them abandon their home and retreated into the more traditional life.  In fact, he took it a step further.  They weren’t just staying with the reclusive skinwalkers; they were staying with ones that still roamed wilderness.  From what Dean was saying, it sounded like it was necessary, though he wouldn’t really say why.

They ended up traveling all over the Midwest, constantly on the move and never in one place for more than a couple months at best.  Because the roaming skinwalkers had almost zero contact with humans, English was useless.  If they wanted to talk to any of them, they had to know the native language of the region.  Again, because Dean was a quick learner, as was Sam, and because all the languages were sisters to one and other, Dean could fluently speak five different native languages.  Castiel sat slack-jawed at that, he’d barely managed to learn German in high school and had immediately forgotten ninety percent of it after graduation.

After that, Dean went off track from the family topic to sights he’d gotten to see.  Castiel had to admit he was jealous of that, he never had the opportunity to travel much and even if he had, he would’ve never seen the places that Dean did.  Dean offered to show him some of the places around there that had stunning views that were only ever seen by wildlife or the creatures that the skinwalkers protected humans from.  He was wary of that; he couldn’t say there were no such things, because a skinwalker was sitting on his couch and telling him stories.  But he didn’t know what ones were real and what weren’t, the names Dean used weren’t ones he knew and Dean didn’t know their English translations.  But he assured Castiel that the creatures were only about as dangerous as other wildlife now.  Castiel did want to, but he’d rather wait until after winter.  Their impromptu fishing trip made it very clear he’d only enjoy himself for a short while before the cold was too much.

With how many stories Dean had, it was easy to get wrapped up in them.  Castiel made no effort to stop Dean.  He listened intently, not even fully aware that he was on auto-pilot with making them lunch and dinner.  It wasn’t until Castiel suddenly had a hard time staying awake that he realized he’d been listening to stories literally all day long.  And he’d probably only heard a tiny fraction of everything; Dean had over twenty years’ worth of stories.  Seeing how tired Castiel was now, Dean got somewhat bashful and apologized for his ramblings.  Castiel insisted it was alright; in fact, he loved it.  Hearing and reading stories were always his favorite.

He wanted Dean to keep telling stories, but he didn’t want to miss anything adventurous or important, so Dean ended up describing sceneries.  English wasn’t his strong suit, though he was doing remarkably better now that he was trying.  Castiel listened to him as they both laid in bed, sharing the blankets for warmth.  He fell asleep imagining beautiful, star and aura littered night skies of the Midwest while watching bliss and nostalgia dance across Dean’s face in the moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i had no idea what to call this chapter. anyways, there's some history on Dean finally :D the rest will get fleshed out as the story goes and shit happens...yes shit will happen because i am just that kind of author. but don't worry, up next is fluff and bonding and whatnot


	11. Snowed In

As December came around, the weather had only gotten colder.  Which was to be expected, it was _December_.  But Castiel hadn’t realized how cold Montana could get and with his heaters still broken, it was misery.  Absolute misery.  The only moments of relief he had were either at the Roadhouse, where Ellen kept the heat up for everyone, taking a hot shower or snuggling up to Dean under the blankets when he went to bed.  Dean was like his own personal heater and it perfectly made up for the busted heater in his room.  He did want to get it fixed just so he didn’t have to be so dependent on Dean, but between the days he already missed at work and the fact that the snow is slowing business at the Road house, he really couldn’t exactly afford to do that anymore. 

Just like every morning for the past week and a half, Castiel woke up to a large head pressed to the side of his face, warm breath puffing over the crook of his neck and a heavy paw over his chest.  He wasn’t sure when Dean had changed, since he had fallen asleep beside a human Dean, but the furry warmth was definitely welcomed with how cold the room was.  He gave a small shiver and sleepily snuggled closer to Dean, who whined in protest at the angle of his neck.  He huffed in slight annoyance and moved his head over Castiel’s to relieve the discomfort. 

Castiel wanted to stay like this for a while longer, rather than face the briskness, and he was perfectly content to.  He let himself drift off, listening to Dean’s deep breathing.  Just as he was about to actually fall asleep again, something in his brain clicked and reminded him of his shift today.  He groaned and considered calling in; the weathermen had called for another eight inches of snow, on top of the foot and half that was still there, and a high of fifteen degrees.  So, there wasn’t much motivation to get up.  But he needed to work. 

Castiel sighed and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the cold.  He threw the blankets off, cringing at the sharp rush of cold, while Dean flinched and lazily opened his eyes.  Castiel hurried to the bathroom, trying to keep light on his feet to minimize touching the cold floors, and immediately turned the hot water on.  He stripped down and quickly hopped in with every intention of staying in the shower until the hot water ran out.

When it did about a half hour later, he moved just as swiftly to dry off and dress up in something warm.  Dean was already up and out of bed, probably waiting in the kitchen for breakfast.  He pulled on a pair of boots and walked to the kitchen, only to stop and stare.

The counter was a bit of a mess, with powder and what Castiel could only assume were eggs.  At the stove, with his back turned, Dean was making breakfast; or at least, he was trying to.  Judging from his stance and movements, he was very focused on what he was doing.  Castiel moved closer up beside Dean, who flicked his eyes up curiously before returning his attention to the food.  Pancakes sat cooking beside a bed of scrambled eggs in a large pan.  Castiel scowled and stared at Dean again. 

“What?” Dean asked.

“When did you learn to cook?” Castiel asked, “ _Where_ did you learn to cook?”

“Used help— Um, I…used to help m-my mom,” Dean answered, “You— always make food.  Wanted to help.”

“Oh, um, thank you.”

Dean smiled at him, then went to flip the pancakes.  Castiel sat down at the table and waited.  It was a little strange to have Dean cooking, but he was grateful for it.  He wondered if there was anything else Dean could cook, or could do just in general for that matter.  Castiel was only scratching the surface about Dean.  He’d only learned a few vague things about his life, but the one definitive thing he learned was that Dean’s grammar was, in a sense, linked to his mood.  His sentences only improved when he was talking about his mother or had seen something that reminded him of her; which wasn’t often.  However, the improvements never last more than an hour or two.  Castiel didn’t mind it though, he’d gotten used to how Dean spoke and thought it was something of a charm or quirk.

Dean came over with the plate of food for Castiel, remembering silverware as an afterthought.  He dug through the drawers in search of it and brought it over, before sitting down and visibly trying not to bounce in his seat.  He was clearly proud of himself for having made breakfast.  Castiel was a little wary of the food, not knowing how long it had been since the last time Dean made anything.  Anything in a kitchen, anyways.  He took a bite and was actually surprised to find it was actually good.  A second bite telling him the pancakes had an almost perfect consistency; despite the mess on the counter that suggested they wouldn’t.

“This…this is really good,” Castiel said.

Dean was practically beaming with pride.

“Your mother must’ve taught you well,” Castiel added, taking another bite.

His pride was immediately humbled, bringing him back down to a more modest level.  Maybe ‘modest’ wasn’t the right word.  He was still very proud of himself, but now there was a different tone to his pride, judging by his expression. 

Throughout breakfast, a somewhat wistful smile remained on Dean’s face.  What Castiel had meant more than he’d realized.  When he did realize it, he couldn’t help but give a small smile himself.  When they finished breakfast, Castiel went to take care of the dishes; to which Dean objected.  Along with always making food, he always did the dishes.  Castiel shooed him back from trying to take the plates and told him if he wanted to help more, he could clean up the mess he made.  Cleaning up powder and eggs wasn’t something Castiel was too motivated to do.  Dean grumbled, but complied.  Though he somehow managed to make a bigger mess.

Castiel watched him with raised eyebrows and a smile playing at his lips.  He watched Dean for a few more minutes, until he actually made progress on cleaning it up, then glanced at his phone and saw he should probably be leaving for work now.  Dean saw him go to pick up his keys and instantly knew what that meant.  He fixed him with sad puppy eyes and it was enough for Castiel to at least consider calling in.  But he quickly shook the thought from his head and pointedly looked to the side of Dean to avoid the eyes.

“You know I’ll be back,” Castiel chided.

Dean pouted and turned his head away childishly.

“Just do what you usually do, I’ll be back in the evening.”

He sighed overdramatically, on purpose, and was rewarded with a short breathy laugh as Castiel went for the door.  Castiel walked quickly through the snow to his truck and started it up, turning the heater on right away. 

Backing out proved to be a bit of a challenge, with the snow packing under his tires and up into the wheel-well.  He’d definitely have to shovel and least some of it later; even the thought of all the work that would take has him grimacing.

Thankfully, the interstate and roads were a little better.  They’d been snowplowed and salted earlier in the day.  But that didn’t mean they were perfect.  His truck did lose traction a few times, enough for his heart to skip a few beats.  And half of the parking lot for the Roadhouse was basically an ice rink.  He literally glided over the ice and continued drifting slowly until his tires hit a curb and brought the truck to a complete stop.  The first step out of the truck and his feet went out from under him, making him grab onto the door in a sudden panic.  He managed to catch himself and breathed a sigh of relief before pulling himself up and starting carefully for the Roadhouse.

As expected, there were hardly any patrons.  But he was glad to be there anyway, just for the fact it was warmer than his house.  The bar didn’t need tending right away, so he busied himself with working in the kitchen; an even warmer part of the bar.  When the slow flow of orders stopped, he decided to at least take an inventory on the bottles of liquor displayed on the bar to see if any of them needed to be replaced.

Castiel glanced up as he heard the door open and saw the blonde woman from before, Jessica, walking in with someone; Sam, no doubt.  He was taller than Dean, by a few inches, but he was noticeably leaner.  But Castiel could still see a resemblance.  Both Sam and Jessica were wrapped up in their own conversation as they sat down at the bar, only ordering drinks off-handedly.  Normally, that would bother Castiel, being dismissed in a such a way.  But he was lost in his own thoughts to care much about it right now.  He couldn’t quite get his mind off the sentiment of Dean making breakfast and the look on his face when Castiel had complimented him.

When he gave them their drinks, he could swear Sam gave him an odd look; like he was trying to place him.  Castiel ignored it and stepped away from the bar to look like he was somewhat busy doing something, instead of standing around looking dazed by his thoughts.

“You seem kinda lost in thought,” Jessica commented.

It didn’t work.

“Sorry, I was just wondering what Dean—”

“Dean?” Sam repeated, “Wait, are you ‘Cas’?”

“Yes, he does call me that.”

“Oh my god, I didn’t even realize you were the same person!” Jessica laughed, “What a small world…”

For a minute, Castiel thought it was strange that she didn’t know that, given it almost felt like he knew her.  But then he remembered they’d only met once and what he did know of her had come from Dean.

“Nice to actually meet you,” Sam said, “Dean talks about you.”

“A lot,” Jessica mumbled, hiding amusement.

Sam gave her a sideways glance and slight frown.

“What?  He does,” Jessica shrugged, “But hey, at least it gives him something to talk about.”

“Did he not talk much before?” Castiel asked.

“Not unless he finally made a friend,” Jessica answered, “And that’s not very often…”

Sam gave her a sideways glance and a frown.

“Sorry,” Jessica apologized, “In his defense, he has been trying a little more.  The last one was, what, sometime in the early summer, right?”

“Yeah, Anna.  He—“

“My dog,” Castiel deadpanned.

Honestly, he didn’t know what he expected.  Dean didn’t strike him as the most social person.  But still, he wouldn’t’ve guessed that he and Anna were the most recent he socialized with.  Sam just stared at Castiel with an unreadable expression, while Castiel could swear there was some trace of anticipation on Jessica’s face.

“You…you know Anna wasn’t a dog, right?” Sam asked slowly.

She was a collie.  Castiel had owned her for almost fourteen years.  He would know if she wasn’t a dog; he almost scoffed at that.

“She was a skinwalker too,” Sam said.

“…What.”

“Yeah, just not a purebred one.  I mean, her bloodline was so muddled that it was almost impossible for her to shift.  Almost.  Dean even said she was only human twice the whole they were— ‘dating’ I guess,” Sam continued, “And…she wasn’t thirteen either.  She was actually twenty-two.”

All Castiel could was stare with his jaw dropped.  He was suddenly overwhelmed with confusion, a sense of betrayal and one of guilt. 

“Do you need more time for that to sink in or…?” Sam trailed.

“I…don’t know.  H-how was she twenty-two?  I got her as a puppy.”

“Well, skinwalkers age almost the same as humans.  So the other half, the dog half, goes slower than normal dogs.  You just thought she was a puppy.”

That would explain how she was so energetic at ‘thirteen’ years old.  Castiel scowled at the bar, brows knitted together in thought.  He hadn’t really paid attention to how slowly she aged, she was the first and only pet he’d ever had, so he thought it was normal.  Even the veterinarians didn’t comment on it.  He could help but mentally grumbled at how long veterinarians attend school and not a one noticed she was growing too slow.  Or that she wasn’t a dog.  Castiel shook his head, he had other questions popping up in his mind now.

“Skinwalkers and dogs, that’s a normal thing then?” Castiel asked.

“About as normal as skinwalkers and humans,” Sam shrugged, “The skinwalker part kinda gets diluted one way or the other if they don’t, y’know, hook-up with other skinwalkers.”

“What about you and Dean?”

“Purebred,” Sam replied, with a tone of pride.

“And what are you?  I mean, Anna was a collie.  At least I think…”

“Yeah, she was a collie,” Sam laughed, “We’re, um, dire wolves.”

Dire wolves.  Well, that explained Dean being bigger than an average wolf.  Then Castiel remembered months ago, when Dean was a ‘problem’ and Sheriff Mills had come out with Charlie.  Her computer couldn’t identify Dean, but said the closest thing was a dire wolf.  He’d thought it was broken for saying such a thing, but now he realized it was actually incredibly smart.

“The easiest way to tell if one’s a purebred or not is if they’re a wolf of some kind,” Sam added, “All of us were wolves until the Europeans came over.  That’s when the skinwalker and humans or dogs thing actually became a thing, kind of out of necessity.”

 Castiel nodded in understanding.  Sam kept on about it for a little bit, saying something about how they’d been hunted either for their furs or because they were different.  Different meaning freaks or monsters.  Castiel did want to hear more about it, since it was a pretty solid bet none this would in history books.  But for now, his mind kept going back to the skinwalkers’ relationship habits. Dean would tell him later, if he asked.

Sam’s history lesson quickly tapered off, becoming more of a normal conversation between Jessica and himself.  For the most part, Castiel ignored it and only brought them drinks or food when they asked.  But he did occasionally perk up the few times he heard Dean’s name.  That was the only thing he’d hear though, he never got the precedent or the following part.  It was almost like they’d change the subject right then. 

After a couple hours, Sam thought they should probably leave soon.  It took him a while to convince Jessica that they should leave, the alcohol had her insisting they could stay a while longer.  He had given her a few more minutes before he decided that they were going to leave then.  Not because of her drinking, she’d only had a few, but because of all the snow coming down now.  They said their goodbyes and Sam led Jessica out as she stood on her tiptoes to whisper something to him.  Whatever she said had made him smile and glance back at Castiel.  He frowned inwardly, wondering what she had said, only to be interrupted by Ellen coming up behind him.  She told him that they were closing earlier today, partly because of the lack of business, but mostly because of the snow.  The Roadhouse would stay closed until the snow back to a more reasonable amount.

Castiel walked outside and was surprised by how much had fallen since he’s gotten there and wondered if the snow would ever stop.  He decided to make a stop at the grocery store on the way home, knowing he was probably low on food.  If he wasn’t, he would be very soon.  But as soon as he pulled into the store parking lot, Castiel stopped and dropped his head against the steering wheel, cursing himself out for being too stupid to go shopping sooner because the grocery was now closed.  They had closed early, as the sign on the door said, and would stay closed until it stopped snowing and some of it was cleared.  He left the store and hurried as fast as he dared to another store with vain hopes it was still open.  Of course, that one was now closed as well. 

Castiel helplessly hit hands on the steering wheel, slumping back with a sign.  He sat there for a few minutes, trying to think of exactly how much food he had and how long it might last, but he couldn’t remember.  He rolled his eyes and started back home.

When he got home, he couldn’t even drive all the way up to the house.  His truck got stuck about a hundred feet away.  He never hated the property size until now.  He cut the engine and got out, slamming the door shut.  He tucked his arms around himself and started trudging through the snow.  The cold went straight to his bones as the snow was quick to soak his clothing after only a couple yards.  He mentally willed for Dean to come out and carry him, just like when they’d gone fishing.  He would’ve yelled for Dean, but his teeth were chattering too much and he doubted he’d be able to form the single syllable.  Castiel gave a full body shudder and looked up to the house; he could see Dean’s silhouette in the front window.  He robotically lifted his arm and waved stiffly.  Dean disappeared from the window and the front door practically flew open, letting loose a wolf.

Dean bounded through the snow, jumping just over its surface with each bound.  The snow blustered all around him; and up into Castiel’s face as he came to a halt beside him.  Dean’s tail wagged side to side, dusting the snow around, as Castiel climbed up onto his back.  Going back hadn’t been as smooth as the first time Dean carried him, but there also hadn’t been as much snow.  Dean had him to the front door in less than a minute, which was definitely better than how long it would’ve taken Castiel to get there. 

He shut the door behind them, kicking off his boots and starting for his room as Dean shook the snow from his fur.  Castiel changed into drier clothes and went back to the kitchen, followed by Dean.  He went through all the cabinets and the fridge to see how much food was left.  There was probably about a week’s worth, if it was just him.  Being that Dean was there, probably closer to two days, maybe three.  Castiel scowled and stood back, opening his mouth to say something to Dean, only to be cut off by a loud _thunk_.

All the lights went out, the fridge clicked off and the two remaining heaters working endlessly went silent.  The snow had now managed to knock out the power.  Castiel rubbed his hands down his face.

“You have got to be kidding me…” Castiel groaned.

He hoped the power would come right back, that it was just a temporary fluke.  But he was never that lucky. 

“Why?” Dean asked, looking up at the ceiling light.

“The snow knocked the power out,” Castiel sighed, “Now it’s gonna be like the artic in here and half the food is going to go bad if it doesn’t come back soon.”

“Can fix?”

“No, I can’t—“ Castiel stopped, “Well, maybe.”

He remembered he’d bought a generator a couple years ago because of a blackout that had taken days to fix.  It should still be in the garage.

He left Dean in the kitchen and went to search through the garage for the generator.  It wasn’t a big or powerful one that could run the entire house; it could just do hot water, the stove, the fridge and the freezer.  _Maybe_ a few lights, if he was lucky.  But it was still better than nothing. 

He found the generator in its box, shoved in the corner behind a couple other boxes.  He dragged it out and opened the box with now shivering hands.  It took a little while to actually get it out of the box by himself; it was still heavy for its size.  He grabbed the directions out the box and groaned when he read it couldn’t be run in closed areas.  Like the garage.  He reluctantly opened the garage door and worked to move the generator just outside it.  All its attachments hooked up to the outlets inside the garage and once he had them plugged in, he started the generator.  It made weak, dying sounds, crushing Castiel’s hope, just before it rumbled to life. 

He dropped his head back in a silent prayer of thanks.  Castiel reached up and pulled the garage door back down, taking care not to crush or dislodge the wires of the generator.  He hurried back inside, wanting to get out of the freezing cold, and went straight to the kitchen to check the fridge.  The light came on and he could feel is coldness returning.  He threw it shut and checked the stove; heat rose up from its surface.  The water from the sink took a few minutes before it went from icy to steaming. 

Now they were back to square one, for the most part.  When Castiel made dinner, he kept portions a little bit smaller than normal.  He was fine with it, but Dean wasn’t.  He wasn’t groaning or complaining that it wasn’t enough, well, for him.  He seemed more bothered that Castiel wasn’t eating as much.  Castiel thought about pointing out that it was plenty for him because he wasn’t as big as Dean or had anywhere near the appetite that he did, but he kept it to himself.  Dean was just concerned for him.  He did draw the line when Dean tried to pass his food off to Castiel because Dean did need it more than he did.  Dean scowled and picked at the food a bit, as if trying to tell Castiel he wasn’t going to eat it.  But another minute of Castiel’s refusal and Dean gave up, now only trying not to scarf it down like a starved wolf.

Castiel felt bad and wanted to make more food, but he couldn’t do that until he knew when the stores would open again.  He just finished his own dinner in silence and stared out the window at the piling snow.  He remembered when he was little that having any amount of snow was a miracle, and this would have been a godsend.  But now it was just a nightmare starting up.  He glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye.  He didn’t look as bothered by it, in fact, he didn’t look bothered at all.

“Do you like the snow?” Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged.

“Don’t go out in snow like this.  Stay home.”

“Good idea,” Castiel laughed dryly, then he wondered, “Where do you live?”

“Old bear cave.  Miles away.”

“And you come all the way here?”

Dean nodded.

“Why?”

“Nicer than cave,” Dean replied.

Castiel gave a light snort, there was no arguing that.

“And Sammy and Jey-skah here,” Dean added.

He looked like he wanted to add something else, but thought against it.  Castiel tilted his head and eyed him curiously, but he didn’t ask.  Whatever Castiel was thinking was probably wrong.  He picked up the dishes, took them over to the sink and just left them with a light rinse.  He didn’t feel like actually washing them right now.  What he did feel like was taking a hot shower.  He made sure everything was off, save for the fridge, so the generator wouldn’t have any struggle with the water heater.

The shower sprayed freezing water for a couple minutes, which Castiel made sure to stay away from until it warmed up.  When it did, he was perfectly content to stay under the hot streams for as long as the water heater would let him.  Almost forty minutes later, he was reluctantly getting out and drying off quickly, searching for warm clothes again. 

With the power out, there wasn’t much to do; not that there was a whole lot before.  He came back to the living room, seeing Dean slouched boredly on the couch.  He perked up when Castiel sat down beside him and scooted closer.

“I know you said you stay home when it snows like this,” Castiel started, “But what do you do?”

“Not much.  Sleep.  Wrestle…sometimes make new furs.”

“You can do that?”

Dean nodded.

“Use for bed,” Dean said, “Or like, um…”

Dean frowned, the word he was looking for was escaping him.  He motioned up and down towards the window.

“Curtains?” Castiel guessed.

“Yes.  Keep way-ther out.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Castiel thought aloud.

“Can show when snow gone,” Dean offered.

He had to admit, he was curious what the cave looked like.

“Yeah, I’d like to see it,” Castiel accepted.

At that point, Dean started going into the different places he, Sam and their father had lived.  It was mostly caves, with the occasional burrow, but the way Dean described them made them sound so much nicer than just a hole in the ground.  There had been ones lit by glittery geodes, ones reflecting veins of precious metals, underground gardens, slabs of granite people would pay thousands for…  All of it sounded better than any house Castiel had ever lived it and probably better than anything he’d seen on TV.  The only place Dean didn’t go into detail on was the actual house he used to live in when he was little.  He skimmed over that, not too fond about talking about it.  All he’d said about that was that it _had been_ a fairly big two story house in the suburb; Castiel helping remember the word ‘suburb’.

 As for Castiel, this house was the biggest he’d lived in.  Before that, it had been a townhouse shared with two other families.  Before that, a duplex.  None of them had anything on where Dean had lived.

They both kept talking about places they’d lived until Castiel started to nod off.  He was fine with sleeping on the couch, both of them sitting there had warmed it up nicely compared to the cold bed waiting down the hall.  But Dean prompted him and down the hall.  Thankfully, he didn’t make him change into pajamas too.  Castiel just crawled under the covers, keeping curled up and trying to keep his skin from the cold sheets until they warmed.  Dean couldn’t care less, burying himself under the sheets and stretched out beside Castiel.

               

Each day following went basically the same.  Castiel making small meals to make the food last, Dean telling stories, both of them going to sleep together to keep warm.  Though that was more for Castiel’s sake than it was Dean’s.  Things were going fairly well for the lack of power to the house and the snow piling up outside.  That is, until the food was nearly gone and there was almost three and half feet of snow outside.

Castiel thought it was ridiculous.  Absolutely ridiculous.  He didn’t think it ever snowed this much in Montana.  A quick search online told him he was wrong, they were actually pushing the record for it now. 

The pantries and fridge were now bare enough that biggest meal Castiel could make would be considered a tiny snack.  He felt a sudden overwhelming sense of worry and panic at the lack of food coupled with the fact he couldn’t get any.  While he stood in front the of pantry stressing, Dean walked up close behind him and peered over his shoulder.  He didn’t stress or panic about it, instead, Dean only sighed and shrugged stepping back.  Castiel furrowed his brows in confusion, thinking with Dean’s appetite he’d be more concerned.  When he turned around, Dean had apparently already guessed the question.

“Hunt,” Dean said simply.

“What?” Castiel asked, “In this weather?”

“Don’t normally, but need food.”

“Isn’t it too cold?”

“For lots things.  That’s why not hunt in cold much.”

“Is there even anything to hunt out there?  Isn’t everything hibernating or hiding or something?” Castiel asked, “Or— frozen to death?”

Dean laughed lightly and shook his head.

“Can find something.  Very good hunter.”

“Well, I hope so…” Castiel mumbled, “Are you gonna be alright?”

There was a flit of some emotion in Dean’s eyes he couldn’t quick place, but it was quickly replaced with the same amusement of a second ago.

“Be fine.”

“Will you come back if you get cold?  Even if you don’t have anything?”

“Will have something,” Dean promised.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Dean smiled and waved him off as he started for the door.  Castiel huffed and followed him, bracing himself for when the door opened.

“Promise you’ll come back,” Castiel said.

There it was again, that little flicker of emotion.

“Prah-miss.”

Dean pulled the door open, letting the arctic air in and stepping out.  Castiel was faster than him in shutting the door, something that earned a somewhat surprised and amused look from Dean before he practically jumped off the porch into the snow.  He disappeared under the blanket for a moment before a wolf sprang up and took off bounding for the fence line.  Castiel stood there, mentally grumbling that he better come if he’s cold, even if it’s empty-handed.  He stared out the window a little while longer before retreating from the window.

Castiel curled up on the couch, draping a couple blankets over himself.  With all the snow outside, it would probably take Dean a little while to find anything.  But after nearly four hours, Castiel fidgeted and got up to look out the window.  There was no sign of Dean and all evidence of the tracks he’d made leaving were completely covered up.  Castiel chewed his lip in worry, but shook his head and returned to the couch.

The hours ticked by with more snow piling up, now nearly as high as the window sills.  Castiel kept wrapped up in his blankets, but got up and moved over to the window to look outside again.  The longer Dean took, the more worried Castiel got.  He tried reminding himself that Dean lived here, he lived out in the wilds, he was probably used to this weather by now or knew how to cope with it.  But seeing the _-1_ ° showing on his phone didn’t do much to ease his worries.  He paced around the room a few more times, before settling back on the couch.  He tried distracting himself with his phone, but the battery died out after about twenty minutes.  He thought about charging it, but not knowing the full extent of the generator’s ability, he decided it could wait.  The only person who ever really called or texted him was Gabriel.

He tossed the phone aside and tapped his fingers anxiously on the couch arm.  It was around twelve-thirty, by his guess, when he caught a small movement out of the corner of his eye.  He jumped up and darted over to the window, losing a blanket in the process, and cupped his hands to the glass to see better. 

For a moment, there was nothing.  Then a dark mass pushed through the snow several feet before pausing.  Castiel pressed his face closer to glass.  Obviously, it was Dean; he’d be terrified if it was anything else.  But he was trying to see what it was Dean was dragging, however, the snow was too high to see anything but the top part of Dean’s body and an extra lump or two.  Castiel went to the door to open it for Dean, but paused when he realized how long it was taking Dean to get to the door.  He was only moving a few yards, if that, at a time.  Castiel stared and felt his heart start beating faster.  With all the strength Castiel was sure Dean had, it shouldn’t take this long.

Dean managed to haul the creature up to the bottom of the stairs of the porch before Castiel decided that was close enough.  He threw the door open, only making a half-assed effort at closing it behind him; the house was already freezing, what difference was that going to make?  He tripped down the hidden stairs of the porch and fell into the snow beside Dean.  Castiel was quick to jump to his feet, already shivering, and start brushing away the snow to find Dean again.  Just to his left, Castiel’s hand connected with Dean’s head, earning a soft whine.  Castiel recoiled for a second before he started working around that area.

Dean laid in the snow, supported by about a foot of well-packed and nearly frozen snow, with the frosted leg of a deer held loosely in his teeth.  Castiel cupped his hands on either side of Dean’s face, lifting his head and making him drop the deer.

“D-Dean?  Are you o-okay?” Castiel asked.

Dean slowly looked up at him with hooded green eyes.  That was all the more answer Castiel needed.  He pushed more snow out of the way, trying to find a way to move him inside.  He bent over awkwardly, snaking his arms under Dean and around his chest; Castiel couldn’t even lock his fingers together around Dean.  He stumbled a few times as he tried dragging Dean inside while Dean made lame efforts to support himself.

Castiel fell through the door, along with Dean.  He whimpered weakly, pushing himself up just enough to crawl the rest of the way into the house.  Castiel kicked the door closed behind him, before getting to his feet and grabbing the blanket he dropped by the couch.  He tucked it snuggly around Dean, then scooted in front of him.

“Dean?”

He looked up again with a huff that bordered on a sigh.  He shook his head just enough to get Castiel to let go, allowing him to transform back into a human.  Being that it was winter now, Dean had lost some of his tan, but now his skin was nearly china-doll white, the skin of his eyes darkened, and his lips paler from the cold.  He sat back on his haunches and curled the blanket tightly around himself.

“F-f-fine,” Dean mumbled, “J-just c-cold.”

Castiel stared at him in disbelief.  He was sure that if it wasn’t for some kind of skinwalker advantage, like his fur or something, that Dean would have a serious case of hypothermia right now.  And who was to say he didn’t? 

Castiel moved over to him, grabbing at his arm and shoulder to prompt him to his feet.  Dean’s movements were slow and deliberate as he tried to hide his shivering.  Castiel led him down the hallway to the bathroom, helping him to keep upright as they went.  When they made it there, he let Dean slump against the wall to the floor while he went over to the tub and twisted the faucet on.  Icy water rushed out, taking a few minutes before it could even be called room temp.  A few more minutes and steam began to curl up from the water.  At that, Castiel plugged the tub and turned back to Dean, helping him up again.  Dean, feeling a tiny bit better, managed to give him an odd look.

“You’re freezing,” Castiel said, “This’ll help.”

Dean eyed him with something like either suspicion or trying to understand something, but he accepted Castiel’s help up.  He reluctantly let Castiel take the blanket as he stepped into the hot water.  He flinched at the initial shock of heat, but quickly sank down into it with a relieved sigh.  Castiel felt a pang in his heart as the color began to return to Dean.  He didn’t realize he was staring at Dean in the bathtub until Dean glanced up at him and gave him a lazy grin.  Castiel tensed and averted his gaze, only to hear him snicker, and he looked back.

“Not had bath since…long time,” Dean said, then paused for a moment, “Um, not had a bath…in a long time.”

Castiel picked up on that; he hadn’t had a bath since his mother was alive.  But he’d been a little kid then.  He was Castiel’s age now.  Castiel frowned at him.

“What have you been doing then?” Castiel asked.

“Not had a, uh, per-oper bath in a long time,” Dean amended, “Usually bathe in rivers— or lakes.”

“Does Jessica not let you take a bath?”

“Not allow— ‘M not allowed inside if dir— if I’m dirty,” Dean mumbled.

“So then there’s not much of point if that’s the case…”

Dean hummed and nodded, sighing and sinking lower into the hot water.  Castiel looked around for a minute, unsure of what to do.

“I’m, uh, going to bring that deer in before it turns into a block of ice,” Castiel decided.

Dean glanced up at him as he stood and moved to do the same.  But Castiel saw him and put a hand to his shoulder to stop him.

“Take your time, I can get it,” Castiel said.

Dean stared at him questioningly, but Castiel wasn’t going to let him back outside until he’d warmed up back to normal.  A couple minutes in hot water wasn’t going to cut it.  Dean set his jaw, but shrugged and relaxed.  Castiel turned and left the bathroom, making sure his jacket was done up tightly as he walked back to the living room.  He checked his boots and searched the living for his gloves.  When he found them, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

In the time it took to get Dean into warm water, the snow had effectively covered the deer again.  Castiel grimaced, but proceeded out into the snow to find it.  He moved more carefully through the snow this time.  He still managed to trip over it.  He grumbled loudly in annoyance and started smacking the snow away to find any kind of hold on the animal.  The first cleared part of it gave him an antler sticking out of the snow; a perfect grip, he thought.  He took hold of the bony appendage and started the task of dragging it free.

He managed to get it to the porch, pausing to take a breath.  He looked down at the deer, seeing it was a six point buck of fairly good size.  Claw marks on its hind quarters and shoulders told him it hadn’t been too much of a surprise attack.  The deep punctures in its neck, coupled with the odd angle its head sat, told him Dean had broken its neck.  Castiel shivered at the artic wind the whipped by and was prompted into moving again.  He nudged the door open with his hip and continued to drag the deer inside; it was easier to move now that it wasn’t covered in snow.

Ordinarily, he would’ve moved it around the house to avoid bringing snow inside or trailing remains.  But there was too much snow outside for him to even consider that for more than half a second, plus the deer was pretty well frozen; it wasn’t going to leave a trail for a little while.  He pulled it through the kitchen, trying and failing to maneuver it as he went, and kept on until he reached the garage.  He straightened up with a sigh and looked around for anything to prep it with.  He didn’t see anything, but then again, he wasn’t looking very hard.  On top of that, he never skinned or prepped a deer before, so he didn’t even know what to look for apart from a knife.

If his phone was charged, he might be able to look up how to do it.  There was also his laptop, but with the power out, that meant the wifi too; at least his phone would’ve been able to use mobile data.  Castiel realized then that Dean would have to do all the work, as if it wasn’t bad enough he’d just frozen himself hunting the damn thing.  He hung his head with a sigh and started back towards the bathroom; Dean had been in there about thirty five minutes now.

Castiel pushed the door open and saw Dean had fallen asleep, slumped as low as he could go without drowning himself.  He crossed over the bathtub and kneeled down, checking to see if the water was even still warm.  It was lukewarm, but it wouldn’t last much longer.  He reached over and patted Dean’s cheek until he made a lazy face of annoyance before slowly blinking his eyes open. 

“The water’s gonna get cold soon,” Castiel said.

Dean groaned, reluctantly pushing himself up to a sitting position while Castiel stepped just outside the bathroom to grab a towel.  He handed it over to Dean as he got out and pulled the plug.  It used to bother him when he saw Dean naked, or when his robe happen to fall away for whatever reason, but at this point, it seemed completely normal.

Dean quickly dried off before the air took advantage of his wet skin and hugged the towel around himself like a blanket.  He walked out of the bathroom, still a little dazed from his nap, and went to the living room in search of his robe.  When he found it, he kept the towel tucked around his waist and threw the robe on over it; he was still cold, not the Castiel could blame him.  But rather than take it easy and lay down on the couch with a blanket or something, he wandered through the house, following the fading trail the deer had made.  He poked his head into the garage and saw the animal, then came back into the kitchen and started going through the cabinets.  He was going to take care of it right now.

“Dean, it can wait,” Castiel tried, “You don’t have to do it now.”

“Can do now,” Dean replied.

He stood back, frowning at Castiel’s lack of variety in knives.  None of them were particularly good for anything other than cutting a small steak or slicing bread.  But he’d done with less.  He picked out a steak knife and went back to the garage.  Part of Castiel was curious how skinning and cutting a deer went, but part of him wasn’t too excited to see everything either.  He ended up just standing outside the garage door and listening.  At first, there was just shuffling around, like Dean was moving other things; probably to keep any mess to a minimum.  But when he did start cutting into the deer, the sounds really weren’t that bad.  From where Castiel stood, it didn’t sound any worse than when he’d gutted the fish.  He dared to peek around the door and immediately blanched at the sight of the growing pile of organs beside Dean.

At that, Castiel promptly went back to the living room to wait.  But the process took longer than he thought and it was already very late; he ended up falling asleep not long after he sat down.

When he woke up the next morning, it was to Dean curled up beside him with a blanket covering them both.  Castiel shifted a little, trying to stretch out some of the stiffness without bothering Dean.  He didn’t seem to mind the movements though; he was still very much fast asleep, giving Castiel a little more freedom with his stretching.  When he looked around the room, he saw a pair of antlers sitting on top of a crudely folded pelt on the coffee table in front of him.  Castiel just stared blankly at them; he had no idea what he was going to do with them.  How had Dean even tanned the pelt?  Castiel had nothing to do that with.  But then again, Dean didn’t have anything to use for to make the furs in the cave he called home; he knew some kind of secret or old fashion way or something.

But having them there made it fairly clear they were like some sort of present; throwing them out was out of the question.  He supposed he could find a plaque to mount them to and just hang them up.  Glancing around the room again, he decided it could use some decorating anyways and they would fit the style of the house.

He looked between the ‘presents’ and Dean, then thought back on him hunting, making breakfast, keeping him warm at night and what Sam had said about skinwalkers’ relationship habits.  It almost seemed like a courtship of sorts.  Maybe he was reading too far into it, letting his imagination get away from him. 

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about the idea until Dean woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if there's any continuity errors, please tell me because it's 3am right now and i feel like missed something.
> 
> but hey with all that time passage here that means the next chapter is gonna have christmas (◡‿◡✿)  
> and certain people showing up unannounced (ʘ‿ʘ✿)


	12. Put it on the Back Burner

Two days later, the power finally came back.  After nearly two weeks of no electricity, it was like a god-sent miracle.  That same day, the snow began to clear; only a little bit, but enough for the locals to decide to reopen businesses and stores.  Castiel couldn’t wait to go to the store, partly because he wanted to get out of the house (though he couldn’t complain about the company) and partly because he was getting a little sick of venison.  It was good, great even; fresh meat is hard to top.  But that’s all they’d been eating and while Dean may be used to that, Castiel wasn’t. 

He bundled up as warm as he could before going outside and awkwardly making his way through the snow to clear some of it away from his truck.  Dean followed him outside to help, also bundled up.  Castiel wouldn’t let him follow him until he was dressed and warm; he didn’t want another hypothermia scare.   

Dean scooped armfuls of snow away from the tires while Castiel worked to clear it from the doors so he could at least get in.  It took few tries to get the doors open, since they’d frozen themselves shut, but when he did, he started the truck right away to let the engine warm.  Dean had already gotten most of the snow away from the tires and had started working on clearing an area for the truck to move and turn around.  Castiel felt a little guilty, sitting in the truck as it warmed up while Dean kept moving snow, but he was moving faster than Castiel would and didn’t mind it.  A few minutes later, there was enough room and Dean was climbing into the truck.  With all the snow still clinging to him.  Castiel mentally rolled his eyes; the interior was going to be wet for a long time now.

He sighed and let it go, putting the truck into gear and getting it to move.  The frozen ground held the tires stubbornly and it took a little rocking back and forth, but a rocky surge backwards told them the truck had been freed.  Castiel got the truck turned around and started for the interstate, only to get stuck in the snow about thirty feet later.  He dropped his head against the steering wheel in frustration while Dean slumped in mild annoyance before hopping out again.  Dean cleared more snow and knocked out the snow packed into the wheel wells, but he didn’t get back in the truck.  He had every intention of standing outside until it made it to the interstate.

Thankfully, he only had to clear snow one more time before Castiel was able to reach the road.  The interstate had been plowed and treated, along with most of the main roads.  When they got into town, they could see a few snow plows working on the side streets.  At the grocery stores, mounds of snow took up the only parking spaces that weren’t already taken.  In the back of his mind, Castiel knew the stores would be packed, but that didn’t make it any less aggravating.

He, and a few other cars, waited at ends of rows for anyone to leave.  Dean thought it was kind of strange, but was more amused by the determined look on Castiel’s face.  When he saw an SUV’s reverse lights come on, Castiel was quick to jump on the space, narrowly edging out a sedan.  He didn’t even try to resist flashing a smug grin at the other driver, earning a laugh from Dean.

The store was somehow busier than the parking lot led them to believe.  Castiel now almost regretted his decision to come, but he was momentarily distracted by Dean moving closer behind him.  Just by how he moved and the look in his eyes, this was far more people than he was used to ever being around and he was wary of them all.  Castiel nudged him as he took the last cart and brought Dean’s attention towards him.  There was a little relief on his face and he kept close to Castiel for a short while.

After about twenty minutes, Dean seemed more relaxed in the sea of people and returned the distance he normally kept.  Castiel would probably never admit he was a little disappointed by it.  They made their way up and down a couple more aisles, spending several minutes in each one; though not by their choice.  At one point, they’d effectively gotten boxed in by a couple families with carts that were practically over flowing.  They tried to squeeze by anyone of them, but either they couldn’t be heard or were just being flat out ignored.

“Not like,” Dean grumbled.

“Me neither…” Castiel agreed.

 Dean fidgeted with his fingers, while Castiel stared boredly at the wall of cans.  He snapped out of it when his phone buzzed in his pocket.  Dean glanced over his shoulder at it, but went back to fidgeting and looking like he was mentally willing people to move. 

_‘Hey, bro.  Got any Christmas plans?’_

  
_‘No, I do not.’_ Castiel replied shortly.

‘ _Then you should come back home for the holidays :D ‘_

_‘Why?’_

_‘Because I don’t want to go over there again.  It’s frickin’ cold.’_

Castiel started to type a reply, but another buzz interrupted him.

_‘Plus, if you don’t come here, then I don’t have an excuse not to go to Kali’s parents’ house.’_

_‘Is that such a bad thing?’_

_‘Yes.  Yes, it is._ ’

_‘Well, then it looks like you’ll have to suffer through it.’_

_‘Whhhhyyyy? :( ‘_

_‘Because I would like to stay here._ ’

When Castiel looked up, Dean had wandered off.  There were a couple disgruntled people, so he’d probably gotten annoyed and forced his way by.  Castiel sighed, deciding he’d find Dean eventually if he walked around.  As he did, one aisle happened to catch his eye: the pet aisle.  He immediately thought of Dean eating dog treats and wondered if he ever had, then he snorted to himself imagining it.  Castiel glanced around for any sign of Dean, but didn’t see him.  He decided it’d probably be funny just to buy a small bag and see what Dean did.  He walked down the aisle and skimmed through the shelf of treats, picking up a bag that almost sounded and looked like something a human would eat.

“Pets are spoiled…” Castiel mumbled.

He tossed it into the cart and resumed looking for Dean.  He checked down every aisle as he walked through the back of the store until he came near the end of it; this end of the store having the bakery which, of course, had pie.  And that was where he found Dean, slowly circling around the table of pies and looking like he was making a very serious decision.  He perked up as Castiel came closer and suddenly had the look of child about to ask their parent for something.

“Can have?” Dean asked.

“As long as it’s not the big, expensive one,” Castiel replied.

Dean pouted slightly, but picked up smaller apple pie and set it in the cart.  Castiel turned and headed for the checkout.  He didn’t have near as much as most of the other people in the store, but he didn’t feel like staying at the store much longer.  Still, they ended up spending a remarkably long time in the checkout line and Dean was disappointed his favorite checker wasn’t there. 

Once they got through, they were both relieved to be leaving the store.  Dean carried nearly all the bags, insisting they didn’t need the cart anymore.  Castiel shrugged and pushed it aside, only for it to be taken by a customer just coming in.  They piled all the bags into the cab of the truck, resulting in Dean having to sit somewhat awkwardly until they got home.

Most of the path they’d cleared had stayed cleared, but Castiel tried to push the truck a little closer to the house.  He was hoping to get close enough to actually get it in the garage this time, rather than leave it out again.  However, the truck got stuck in the snow, again, just a few yard from the garage.  Castiel mentally cursed the snow and decided he’d just move the truck later.  Dean got out and hooked his arms through all the bags and carried them inside.  Castiel wished he could’ve taken some of the bags, partially because he wanted to help, but also because Dean dropped them unceremoniously on the counter.  There were fragile things in there, like eggs.  Castiel rubbed a hand down his face and just prayed they weren’t broken now.

Dean kicked off his boots and pulled off most of his layers, more keen on rifling through the bags in search of his pie.  Castiel stood back and watched him, hoping he’d find the dog treats first.  To his delight, Dean did find the dog treats first.  He froze, staring into the grocery bag for a moment, then picking up the treats and staring at them with furrowed brows.  He dropped the back to his side and glared halfheartedly over his shoulder at Castiel.  Castiel bit his lip to keep from smiling in an attempt to look innocent.

“What?” Castiel managed.

Dean held the bag up for him to see.

“Really?” Dean asked.

Castiel opened his mouth, but stalled on an answer.  He scratched the side of his face and waved his hand.

“Do you not want them?” Castiel asked.

Dean eyed the bag, then gave Castiel a cautious look as he put the bag on the counter.  He did want them.  Castiel had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.  Dean shot him a dirty look over his shoulder and kept looking for his pie.  When he found it, he went through a few drawers, trying to remember where the silverware was.  Castiel thought for a second that maybe Dean was trying to better his eating habits, but he was apparently only after a knife to make it easier to pick up and eat. 

He took his spot at the table, content to sit and eat while Castiel put the groceries away.  He made short work of putting everything in its spot, but left the dog treats where they sat.  Dean had made even shorter work of the pie and had been sitting watching Castiel for the past few minutes. 

“You know, if you’re still hungry…” Castiel nodded to the treats.

Dean set his jaw and fixed Castiel with another glare.

“Not pet,” Dean grumbled.

Castiel held his hands up in defense and walked off into the living room.  Dean sat there with arms crossed and glanced at the floor before leaning back in the chair.  He could just barely see Castiel disappearing down the hallway.  He quietly jumped up and moved around the counter to where the treats sat and snatched them up.  He glowered at them again, but he really did want them.  They just looked good.  He ripped the bag open and found them to smell even better than they looked.  Dean poked his head around the corner; Castiel was still gone.  He took one out the bag and bit down on it, but recoiled immediately.  It was like biting into a brick.  He snatched the bag up again and stared at it.  His reading was about as strong as his speech, but he could still tell the label made it clear the treats were meant to entertain dogs for hours.

Castiel heard the unmistakable sound of twisting bones and flesh, followed by an irritated huff.  He hurried back to the kitchen and found Dean laying on kitchen floor, giving the tough treat a dirty look.  He gave a low growl before biting down on it again, only to get the same reason.  He may as well be chewing on an actual bone and that was something he was never fond of.  Castiel smirked and folded his arms, leaning against the door frame.  Dean chewed at it a few more times before laid his ears back and gave a snarl, just before chomping down on it hard.  The treat fractured into half a dozen smaller, much more edible pieces and Dean wagged his tail at the success.

Castiel stood there with his eyebrows raised until Dean took notice of him.  When he did, he stopped wagging his tail and drooped his head like he was embarrassed.  Castiel shook his head and stepped around Dean, going over to the counter while he ducked his head and quickly ate the pieces of the treat.  Castiel took another one from the bag and tried bending it; it didn’t give.  He tried harder to bend or break it, even using the counter’s edge for leverage, but he got little more than the slightest bend.  Not for the first time, he wondered how strong Dean actually was.

Despite the treat’s toughness, Dean must’ve liked it anyway because he was staring at the one in Castiel’s hand.  He shrugged and tossed it towards Dean, who caught it in flash of teeth and crushing bite.  Castiel let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and went back to the living room, stooping and patting Dean on the head; much to his annoyance.

Dean followed him a minute later, hopping up on the couch and curling up, but he perked up when he looked at the coffee table.  The pelt and antlers had been sitting there since he put them there, but were now gone.  He sat up and looked around, turning to Castiel for an answer. 

“I just moved them,” Castiel answered simply.

Castiel nodded back towards the hallway.  Dean jumped down and trotted down the hall, poking his head in each closet and room.  He found them in Castiel’s room.  The pelt was neatly draped over the chest of drawers with the antlers posed on top.  He’d moved the handful of random objects off the drawers and replaced them with Dean’s ‘gift’.  Dean turned and trotted back to the living room, jumping up onto the couch again and briefly bumping his head against Castiel’s arm before curling up against him.  Castiel hovered his hand over Dean’s head for a moment before he lowered it to scratch behind Dean’s ear.  Dean lazily thumped his tail against the cushions, turning his head into the scratches. 

Castiel smiled and patted his head again before getting up.  Unlike Dean, he hadn’t eaten yet.  Dean whined and huffed when he got up and went to the kitchen.  He stretched out over the couch for a few minutes, listening to Castiel move around the kitchen.  Then he sat up, turning back to a human, and went to the kitchen.

“Can help?” Dean asked.

There wasn’t much to help with, it was going to be an easy dinner.  But then Castiel figured Dean probably was still hungry.  He thought up another meal that would be at least halfway big enough for Dean, which meant he would need his help then.  He had Dean cut up the vegetables while he seasoned and tied a small roast.  Dean seemed more interested in the seasonings than the vegetables, he kept appearing at Castiel’s side and pressing a finger to a patch of seasonings to taste them.  One touch had him tasting _only_ black pepper.  He made a face of disgust and was quick to spit it out while searching for anything to wash away the taste.  Castiel just rolled his eyes and watched Dean drink from the sink.

“Not like,” Dean stated.

“Not very many people like just pepper,” Castiel replied.

“Will tay-st like that?”

“No, you won’t notice it,” Castiel promised.

Dean eyed him suspiciously, then the roast.  Castiel ignored it with a half-smile, taking the vegetables and adding them to the dish the roast sat in.  While it was cooking, Castiel asked about the foods Jessica cooked, since it didn’t seem like Dean had had very many meals like what Castiel made.  He told Castiel that Jessica and Sam usually kept to snack-type foods, easy to make meals or ordered food whenever he was around.  Not because Jessica didn’t want to or didn’t like cooking, but mostly because it was too much effort to make big meals when Dean could eat them by himself. 

Sam used to eat just as much, if not more.  After he moved in with Jessica, he started eating less until he was down to what a human usually ate.  He wasn’t expending as much energy as Dean still was, so all that food wasn’t necessary anymore.

Apart from Sam and Jessica’s, and Castiel’s, there was no place else Dean went to eat.  He just hunted everything else.  Deer was the easiest, but bear and rabbit were his favorites.  Rabbits were annoying to catch, especially if they got wind of him, and bears he rarely ever went after unless another skinwalker was with him or the bear was asleep.  As he talked about it, Castiel kind of wanted to watch Dean hunt again.  The ice fishing had been a wonder, but wanted to see Dean actually go for something that required more effort than that.

When the oven went off, Dean didn’t crowd around him this time.  Until he got the dish out and on the counter.  Then he was poking at it to taste it again.  Castiel shooed him back with a playful flash of the knife.  Dean scowled at the blade and Castiel, but slunk off to the table to wait.  Castiel brought the food over and Dean was a little weary of it, only because of the pepper.  But once he actually tasted it, he liked it.  As expected, his food was gone by the time Castiel was halfway done. 

While he ate, Dean told him more stories of hunting.  Basically, if it lived on the North American continent, Dean had hunted it.  Or with it, in the case of wolves, coyotes and some foxes.  They were sort of like family.  Dean even admitted a few embarrassing moments, like when he was younger and chasing an artic hare.  The crafty little thing had darted over an ice patch as it ran around a bend and Dean had slipped on the ice, losing his footing and sliding off into a bush.  Sam had barked a laugh at his brother’s failure then, only to slip on the same patch of ice and get a face full of snow.

Stories like those Castiel liked best.  The ones were Dean was successful or hunting something large or dangerous were good stories, but he liked the ones of Dean fumbling or tripping up on something.  There was a little more entertainment to those ones.  So, Dean kept reliving his more embarrassing moments, but to him, Castiel’s grin and laughter were worth it. 

He continued telling stories until Castiel started nodding off, which seemed to be becoming part of their regular thing.  Dean moved closer and wrapped his arms around Castiel, resting his chin on top of Castiel’s head and letting out a content breath.

               

The next morning, Dean whined when Castiel’s alarm went off.  It was too early in the morning.  He reached over Castiel, trying to get at his phone playing the annoying tune and vibrating loudly.  Castiel woke up to a face full of Dean’s chest, as he apparently felt it wasn’t necessary to get up to get at the phone.  He frowned and pushed against Dean until he laid back and then grabbed the phone himself to shut it off.  He stretched and went to get up, only to be stopped by Dean’s arm still around him.

“Dean, I do have to go to work,” Castiel said.

“Why?”

“So I can pay for everything you’re looking at.” 

Dean groaned and rolled away, settling to go back to sleep.  Castiel showered and dressed, Dean remained half-asleep in bed.

“I’m leaving now,” Castiel stated.

Dean peeked one eye open and gave a tired whine of complaint.

“I’ll be back around five.”

“Time now?”

“Six-thirty.”

Dean whined and groaned, rolling over again.  Castiel shook his head and left him there.  This time, leaving him felt a little different.  He couldn’t quite place what it was, since nothing was actually different.  It just felt that way.  It nagged at him the whole way to the Roadhouse and continued to do so for most of his shift.  The feeling was only interrupted by a patron hurrying up to the bar and surprising him.

“Hey, Cas?” Sam asked.

“Oh, hello, Sam.”

“Have you seen Dean at all?  He didn’t stay with me and Jess, or Dad, and I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

“He was with me.  My house got snowed in and lost power.”

Sam sighed with relief and took a seat then.

“One of the lucky ones, huh?” Sam breathed with a laugh.

Castiel fixed him with a side-eyed glare and frown.

“Just kidding, I know it sucks,” Sam said, “But he was with you?”

“Yes.”

“The whole time?”

“Yes,” Castiel repeated with slight annoyance, “He only left once and that was to get something to eat.”

“In that wea—”

Sam stopped and stared at Castiel for a moment.  Castiel could see the gears turning in Sam’s head.  That amused expression Jessica had had last time they were there began to creep onto Sam’s face.

“What?” Castiel pressed.

“Nothing,” Sam smiled, “He just, uh, he just must like you.  A lot.  We never go hunting in that kind of weather, usually there’s no game.”

“Well, there was nothing left to eat,” Castiel mumbled.

“Fair enough,” Sam shrugged.

There was a silent ‘my point still stands’ hanging in the air.  Sam watched as Castiel worked on cleaning up a few glasses, thinking about what Sam had implied.

“I’m not wrong,” Sam said suddenly, “He does like you.”

“I’d assume with how often he spends at my home.”

“You know what I mean,” Sam shook his head with a light smile.

“I do,” Castiel murmured quietly.

“It’s been a long time since Dean liked someone this much,” Sam started, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he did love Anna.  But not quite the same way.”

Castiel looked up at him curiously.

“Anna was kind of like a whirlwind romance,” Sam clarified, “You’re…better for him, somehow.  I don’t know how to explain it.”

“What about the last person— or skinwalker— he liked so much?” Castiel asked with a touch of bitterness.

“Skinwalker.  It, uh, didn’t end well.  That’s kind of thing for Dean,” Sam replied, “I thought she was great for him, but…bad things ended up happening.  Dean would probably break my face if I told you anymore about it though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  I think his words were something along of the lines of ‘mention again, will break nose’,” Sam quoted.

Castiel dropped his gaze with a hum.

“But you don’t seem like you’d hurt him,” Sam spoke up, “At least, I hope not.”

“No, of course not,” Castiel said quickly.

“Good.  He needs people like you,” Sam smiled.

Castiel fidgeted with the rag in his hands, unsure of what to say.  Sam just quirked another smile at him before saying goodbye, he’d only come looking for Castiel because he’d been worried about Dean.  Castiel was left to think about what Sam had said, which brought up his thoughts from a few days ago when Dean had given him the antlers and pelt.  He was weighing the thought of if they were actually going in that direction and if it was alright with him.  They must be headed that way, why else would Sam say those things?

He thought on it all day until it became too much of a cluster of thoughts and feelings.  As he drove home, he decided it would be best to the put all of that on the back burner and just let things go as they were.  It would be less complicated that way.

When Castiel got home, the house was empty.  He threw his stuff to the side and went to the back door, finding a trail of disturbed snow.  Dean had gotten bored or restless and gone out for a bit.  Just as he was about to turn away from the window, he saw Dean hopping over the fence and walking towards the house.  Castiel opened the door as Dean straightened up, most of the snow clinging to his fur dropping as the fur disappeared.  Dean gave a slight shudder as he covered himself up with his robe and earned a side-eyed look from Castiel.

“Not cold,” Dean defended.      

“Oh really?  Then you don’t want a hot bath or sit in front of a heater or wrap up in a blanket…” Castiel taunted.

Dean pressed his lips and defiantly walked past him.  He really could tolerate it, but that didn’t mean he liked it.  He promptly sat down in front of the heater, maintaining a defiant look.

“Not cold,” Dean repeated.

“’Course not,” Castiel breathed.

He went to make them dinner while Dean warmed up.  When he was warm enough, Dean came into the kitchen and started asking about what Castiel did at work.  He didn’t even realize at this point Dean still didn’t know.  Castiel told him in a nutshell what it was and he didn’t seem particularly impressed by it.  The job in and of itself wasn’t interesting, but like Dean, Castiel did have stories that made it more interesting.  He told Dean about the drunks that always made for a more exciting night, the strange things Ash would do or try to make and how Ellen always put an end to them.  Then Dean thought it was less boring sounding than before.  But Castiel left out the bit of talking to Sam today.  _Back burner_ , he reminded himself.

Castiel changed the subject and asked what Dean had done all day, which hadn’t been much.  He’d just gone out for a run down on the canyon floor.  He hadn’t seen any other creatures out, so there’d been nothing to chase or hunt.  But he was glad to get out and stretch his legs.  Castiel commented he should do it more if he felt that cramped up, but Dean just shrugged it off.

After dinner, Castiel thought about going to bed a little earlier than normal.  He was kind of tired from waking up early after getting to sleep in during the power outage.  Dean followed him to his bedroom and crawled under the covers, taking his place while Castiel changed into pajamas.  Castiel got under the covers quickly, wanting to escape the chill that came for him now that he was in fewer layers.  He scooted over and took his place in Dean’s warm arms.

 

Castiel liked waking up in Dean’s embrace.  He couldn’t say he cared if it was a mass of fur covering nearly half his body with a heavy leg over his chest and muzzle against his neck or if it was strong arms wrapped tightly around him with his head tucked under Dean’s chin.  It was just a nice thing to wake up to.  He’d wondered if he’d been thinking too much on Dean’s intentions lately, but Dean never pressed things.  At least, not quickly or noticeably.  Trying to figure out if Dean had any intentions without asking him usually resulted in Castiel being confused because he didn’t know skinwalker behavior very well.  Sam seemed to act more human, but he probably had more human exposure.  Castiel would think on it for a few minutes before giving up and letting himself drift off for a few more minutes.

However, his sleepy morning thoughts were interrupted by dull banging on the front door.  Castiel grumbled and wiggled closer to Dean, burying his face in Dean’s neck and willing whoever it was to go away.  Dean responded by shifting his shoulders and head, bumping the top of Castiel’s head, and sighed contently.  The banging continued, prompting Castiel to actually get up.  He moved with a groan, enough to stir Dean and have him wrap his arms tighter around him in lazy protest.  He considered sinking back down, but another round of banging had him deciding he needed to go stop it if he was going to go back to sleep.

He got up and dragged a blanket with him, leaving Dean with a sheet and comforter, and draped it over his shoulders as he trudged to the door.  With every step, Castiel mentally grumbled at the person.  He didn’t even try to hide his annoyance when he practically ripped the door open.

“…Gabriel?  What are you doing here?” Castiel asked.

“Well, hello to you too,” Gabriel grumbled, “Remember I said if we didn’t have Christmas together, I’d have to go to Kali’s parents?”

Castiel nodded as Gabriel let himself into the house.

“Guess what?  We’re on a six hour layover,” Gabriel deadpanned, “Probably something to do with the snow, but whatever.  Thought I’d come say hi.”

“You drove out here to say hi?”

Castiel shut the door and followed him to the living room.

“What else am I gonna do for six hours?”

Castiel leaned back discreetly and flicked his eyes down the hall, checking to see if Dean was up yet. 

“Plus, mom and dad wanted me to drop off your Christmas present.  Since they knew about the layover,” Gabriel sighed.

He held out a green envelope with Castiel’s name written neatly on the front.  He had a pretty good guess what was inside it and thought about just opening it later.  But the look on Gabriel’s face meant he wanted him to open it now.  Castiel took the envelope from him and tore at the corner, then sliding his finger through to open it.  He took the card out, mindful to not drop any contents.

It had a typical Thomas Kinkade painting on the front and a short, generic ‘Merry Christmas’ on the inside followed by an actual note from his parents.  It was a little nicer than the ones they sometimes gave, they must’ve had a little more time.  Tucked into the card was his present; a check for one thousand dollars.  He grimaced slightly at it.  He always hated accepting money.  Don’t get him wrong, he did deeply appreciate it.  He just didn’t like accepting it, especially large amounts.

“How much d’ya get?” Gabriel asked.

“It’s not of import.”

“C’mon, you can tell me,” Gabriel pleaded.

Castiel opened his mouth, but Gabriel cut him off.

“ _Or…_ you can tell me who that naked stud is,” Gabriel grinned.

Castiel’s head snapped up towards Gabriel, then nearly gave himself whiplash in following his brother’s gaze.  Dean was walking into the living room, naked, and lazily rubbing the side of his face.  Dean stopped and tilted his head in confusion at their staring.

“Well, Cassie?” Gabriel prompted smugly.

Castiel could feel his entire heat up and turn red.  Dean’s eyes flicked between the two of them and he picked up on Castiel’s mortification.  He moved over towards the back door where his robe was laying on the floor, the same spot as always now if he wasn’t wearing it.  He put it on swiftly, easing some of Castiel’s embarrassment.

“Who’s this?” Gabriel asked.

“Dean,” Dean replied simply.

Gabriel stared at the robe for a moment before remembering it from the last time he was there.  When he did remember, his smug grin turned downright shit-eating.

“It’s not what you think,” Castiel snipped.

“Oh really?  Care to explain then?”

Castiel worked his mouth helplessly, there was no good way to explain any of it.  The longer it took for him to say something, the more entertained Gabriel was.  He stifled his laughter and turned his attention towards Dean for an answer.  But Dean seemed more distracted by Castiel’s response.

“It’s nothing,” Castiel blurted.

Gabriel looked back to Castiel.  Castiel’s eyes darted over to Dean for half a moment, just long enough to see the lit up confusion.

“It— it’s nothing,” Castiel repeated, “I swear.”

“And _why_ would I believe that, hm?” Gabriel taunted.

“When have you ever known me to— do something like this?”

“Well, I always had my suspicions,” Gabriel shrugged.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him.

“But seriously, how I am supposed to believe there’s nothin’ goin’ on when a naked guy— a hot, naked guy just walks into your living room like he lives here?”

“He— He kind of does live here…” Castiel admitted, “But there’s nothing going on.”

He swallowed thickly; he could _feel_ Dean’s emotions rolling off him.  He already knew he’d made a huge mistake, because there was _something_ going on; he just couldn’t pin down what it was exactly.  Gabriel glanced between them and shrunk back a little.

“Well, I’ve, uh…clearly stepped in a big one,” Gabriel mumbled, “So, I’m just gonna…go ahead and go.”

Castiel nodded slowly, turning his head somewhat towards Gabriel, but not taking his eyes off Dean.  Gabriel shuffled awkwardly, making a short unsure wave to the both of the before quickly fleeing back to the car.  As soon as the door clicked shut, Dean snapped out of his frozen state.  The shock immediately melted into hurt that he was now trying to cover up. 

“Nothing?” Dean repeated.

“No, Dean, I—“

Castiel stopped when Dean spun on his heels and went for the door.  Castiel cursed under his breath and ran to stand between Dean and the door.  Dean stared down at him, a weak snarl playing at his lips.

“I didn’t mean it,” Castiel said.

“Then what?”

Castiel dropped his shoulders with a breath, trying to think of a good answer.  Dean hardly gave him a minute before he was stepping around Castiel.  He pulled the door open and shrugged off the robe, tossing it to the side.

“Dean, please…”

Dean ignored him, dropping to all fours and taking off through the snow.  Castiel ran his hands down his face, letting the door slowly swing shut on its own.  He took a deep breath to calm himself and shivered at the cold.  Castiel went to the table and slumped into a chair, telling himself that Dean would be back later than night; just like last time he’d gotten upset.  He anxiously tapped the Christmas card against the table, glancing outside quickly and looking back to the card.  At least he could get the heaters fixed now, though the thought wasn’t of much comfort.

He got up and tried to busy himself with anything.  He made himself breakfast, even setting aside some for Dean, called the repairman for the heaters, cleaned up the living room and the kitchen…  He did just about everything that needed doing, which unfortunately was not a very long list of things.  The entire time, he kept looking out of the window and once he was done, he was watching it almost like TV.  When it got late, he made sure the door remained unlocked before reluctantly retreating to take a shower.  It didn’t help him feel any better and he still checked outside for Dean while straining to hear anything inside the house; there was nothing.

Castiel sank down on the bed, reminding himself how late Dean had come back last time.  He grumbled and whined inwardly, curling up under the blankets.  His bed suddenly seemed much bigger and emptier than before.  Castiel scowled and stretched out, trying to fill the space, but the cold had him curling back up. 

He stayed up for most of the night, only getting about three hours of sleep.  When he woke up, the disappointment of waking up alone was almost crushing.  Still, he dragged himself out of bed and checked outside again.  All the snow remained undisturbed.  He shoved all his thoughts to the side, trying not to let it bother him as he got dressed and left for work.  He was distracted and spaced out as he drove, even more so by the time he got to the Roadhouse.  Jo and Ash tried talking to him, they knew something was bothering him, but all they got were short answers.  Eventually they just shrugged and left him to himself.

The whole shift, Castiel kept hoping that either Sam or Jessica would come in.  They’d know how to get ahold of Dean, or at least be able to tell him where he was.  But neither of them did.

After his shift, Castiel hurried home.  This time he did manage to get his truck to the garage, but he paid it little thought as he went straight inside.  He went through the house and looked out through the windows; there was still nothing.  Castiel opened the back door and stepped out onto the porch, eyes sweeping along the fence line.

“ _Dean!_ ” Castiel yelled.

He listened closely, but there was no kind of response.

“ _Dean!_ ”

Castiel sighed and slunk back inside, but stayed in the living room.  He tried to resist checking the windows, but he couldn’t help it every few minutes.  Night came and Dean still wasn’t back.  Castiel groaned at the thought of another cold and lonely night. 

It was just as restless as last night, maybe even worse.  By the time morning came, Castiel didn’t have much motivation to get out of bed.  He probably wouldn’t have for a couple more hours if it weren’t for the fact that the repairman was going to be there soon.  He dragged himself out of bed and got dressed, finishing just has he heard someone knock at the door.  Castiel complained inwardly at himself for picking an early time as he opened the door.

“How’s it goin’?  I’m Garth,” Garth introduced, “Here to fix your heaters?”

“Yes.  Please, come in.”

Garth smiled and nodded, ducking past Castiel.

“Boy, your house is cold, no wonder you called,” Garth commented.

Castiel nodded with a little more sass than he intended to.

“Well, first thing’s first.  What kinda heating ya got?”

“Um, just cadet heaters, I believe.”

“Where at?”

Castiel led him through the house, showing him where each heater was.  He hadn’t really realized it before, but the house had quite a few of them.  Once Garth knew where they all were, he took to dismantling a few to find out what was wrong with them.  Castiel either stood in the doorway or sat on the couch and watched Garth work.  He tried explaining to Castiel what was wrong with them, but Castiel didn’t understand it; that and he wasn’t exactly listening.  He just went with whatever Garth told him and suggested.

“You don’t talk much, do ya?” Garth asked.

He was hunkered down in front of Castiel’s bedroom heater, looking up over his shoulder.

“Oh, sorry.  I’ve, uh…  Just got some things going on right now,” Castiel apologized.

“It’s cool, man.  Everyone’s got problems,” Garth smiled, “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly…”

“That’s fine too, it’s your business,” Garth shrugged.

He then proceeded to tell Castiel of his own problems while he worked.  It was a little annoying at first, but ended up being a welcome distraction.  A couple hours later, Castiel could honestly say he was surprised for Garth to have a rough and honestly crappy life and still remain upbeat.

By the end of the day, most of the heaters had been repaired; two of them replaced altogether.  The one in the living and the one in Castiel’s room had been replaced with long cadet heaters that would warm the room faster and maintain it better.  After Garth left at the end of the day, Castiel went through the house and flipped on the heaters.  Just a few minutes went by before they’d all effectively chased out the cold.  The house was now as warm as it was during summer.  Castiel was glad there’d be no more freezing nights— or days— but a thought popped in his mind: there was no more reason to share a bed or blankets or anything with Dean.  If he even came back at this point.

Castiel flopped on his bed.  He tried to ignore it.  It was a ridiculous feeling, the longing clawing at his chest.  He missed the heavy weight that should be sleeping beside him, keeping him warm, making him feel remarkably safe and relaxed.  Castiel shifted uncomfortably and rolled over, facing away from the side Dean slept on.  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes for minute and trying to will himself to sleep.  He gave up after about thirty seconds.  He stared out of the window at the bright moon and found himself all too aware of the sounds around himself; or lack thereof.  As much as he was trying to ignore the feeling, he was hoping to hear _something._   A door opening, floor creaking, claws clacking on wood…  Hell, at this point he’d almost settle for a faint howl in the distance.

He squirmed around in bed, throwing his arms flat by his side with a huff.  He made up his mind then that he was going to find Sam tomorrow, either at work or after he got off, and try to find where Dean went.  If Sam didn’t know, which he doubted, he thought about just wandering down to the canyon floor and calling out for him.  He was fairly certain the bear cave Dean lived in was down there somewhere, since he always came from that direction.  The resolution of going to find Dean put his mind somewhat at ease, but the comfort didn’t last long.  He didn’t know what to do when he found Dean.  Clearly ‘ _I didn’t mean it_ ’ wasn’t going to cut it, he’d need say something else, something more convincing than that.  The more he thought about a dozen different conversations, the more he realized something and what he’d have to do.

He’d have to admit that he actually did love Dean.  Admitting that to even just himself felt like he was hit by a semi.  He didn’t know when exactly it had happened or how, it was a very gradual and subtle thing.  But he did love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i didn't post this as soon as i said i would, time kinda got away from me and I've had a major headache the past couple days. plus i had a hard time thinking how to expand this chapter since the main chunk (their 'break up' think at the end here) was originally gonna be part of the last chapter ~~hopefully this is still good~~


	13. Christmas Confession

Castiel spent the next three days practically turning the town upside down in search of either Sam or Dean.  He got up early every morning to look around town and did the same at the end of his shifts.  Now, two days before Christmas Eve, he’d managed to catch sight of Sam at the mall.  He ran after him, catching him by the arm and startling him.

“What the hell—!  Castiel?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Castiel apologized.

“It’s fine, I guess.  What do you want?”

There was an edge to Sam’s voice that told him he knew what had happened.  Castiel ducked his head in remorse before meeting his eyes.

“I want to know where Dean is,” Castiel answered.

“Why?” Sam snipped.

“I want to…I need to apologize to him.”

“I really don’t think ‘sorry’ is gonna work,” Sam replied.

Sam turned to leave, but Castiel stepped around and in front of him.  He wasn’t going to give up so easily.  He stared up at Sam with enough determination to make him sigh and shift his weight.

“Look, I don’t even know if Dean _wants_ to talk to you— or anyone, for that matter,” Sam started, “He was pretty pissed when he came by.”

“I know, I—”

“No, I don’t think you do.  He was wrecked, Castiel.  And like right after I said I didn’t think you’d hurt him.”

“Sam, I can’t apologize enough.  But I truly didn’t mean what I said, I was just caught off guard and in a corner, thanks to my brother,” Castiel said, “I just want to make things right.”

Sam stepped back, eyeing Castiel carefully.  He wanted to believe him and go with his previous thoughts about Castiel, but now there was hesitation.

“Sam, please,” Castiel pleaded, “I cannot think of anything else I regret so much as this.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, arguing with himself about whether or not he should give up Dean’s whereabouts.  He dropped his shoulders with another sigh when he decided in Castiel’s favor.

“Does your phone have GPS?” Sam asked.

Castiel nodded and dug it out of his pocket, opening the app and handing it to Sam.  Castiel watched him anxiously as he typed a few things into the search bar and scrolled around the map.  He pinned one location, but started tapping around the screen to add another.  He gave Castiel the phone back with two locations pinned.

“He’s probably at one of those two places,” Sam said simply, “If you can’t find him at either of those, I don’t know where he is.”

Castiel looked at the map, one location was miles away, out in the wilderness.  The other was what looked like a residential address.

“Is this where you and Jessica live?” Castiel asked.

“No, he doesn’t exactly like hanging around us when he’s upset,” Sam shook his head.

Castiel looked at the two locations again.

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sam shrugged, “Seriously.  Now, uh, I gotta finish Christmas shopping for Jess, so…”

“Oh, of course, sorry.”

Castiel stepped out of the way, thanking Sam once more for his help.  Castiel moved out of the way of the other Christmas shoppers and leaned against the wall.  The wrecking yard he could go to anytime, so long as it was open.  He looked up directions and hours, but was only given directions.  Evidently, the place wasn’t exactly an ‘open to the public’ type of wrecking yard.  Still, Castiel was going to go there.  He saved the directions and hurried out of the mall.

The residential place would be the easiest to get to.  As he walked through the parking lot, he loaded the directions.  There wasn’t more than a couple turns he’d have to make, it was just kind of far away.  It’d take about forty five minutes to get there.  But, being that Castiel was feeling anxious, he drove faster and cut nearly fifteen minutes off the estimated time.

He turned off the main road and started down a dirt and gravel road.  He slowed down a little more when he saw an old rusted sign hanging over the road.  _Singer Salvage_.  He stared at it a moment, trying to place why the name sounded familiar.  Then he remember the wildlife officer, Bobby Singer, had mentioned something about owning a wrecking yard.  And a wolf that had given him trouble before. 

Castiel parked next to another truck that he assumed was Bobby’s personal truck.  He threw the door shut and walked quickly to stairs of the porch, practically hopping up them to the door.  Castiel knocked on the door with a little more force and urgency than he meant to.  But it got Bobby’s attention all the same.  He heard muffled grumbling from the otherside of the door and heavy footsteps coming closer, before the door was wretched open.  Bobby was surprised to see Castiel standing on his porch, but was more concerned by the anxious look on Castiel’s face.

“Somethin’ the matter, boy?” Bobby asked.

“Yes and no.  I’m sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to ask you something,” Castiel replied.

“Couldn’t’ve just called?”

“I— Well, yes, I could have.  But in my defense I didn’t realize this was your scrapyard at the time.”

“Fair enough, I s’pose…” Bobby murmured, “Whatcha need?”

“I was wondering if I could maybe take a look around the yard?”

“What for?  Ain’t much useful crap out there.”

“I’m just trying to find, uh…” Castiel trailed off, “That wolf.”

“Wolf?”

“Yes, the one that got into my house a while ago.  You said it used to come here often, sometimes with its owner?  Or possible owner.”

“The little devil better not be back here,” Bobby growled, “Waits til everything’s down to come back…”

Castiel gave a short, breathy laugh.  Bobby scrunched up his face in thought for a moment and shrugged.

“Eh, what the hell.  If you wanna chase ‘im, go right ahead.  I’m gonna work on getting those cameras back up.”

Castiel nodded in thanks as Bobby turned back into the house.  Castiel went down the stairs and started for the yard, but paused when he realized he didn’t even know where to start.  It wasn’t a big salvage yard, but it was definitely a far cry from small.  He sagged his shoulders, but shook his head and started looking around the cars closest to him.

There was a wide variety of cars; their ages ranged from just a couple years old to ones that had to be at least a decade or two older than Bobby.  It was an odd feeling to see those cars sitting next to newer ones in almost the exact same condition; worn down, rusted, dingy windows…  Either the old cars were more cared for or they were built to withstand more.  Both seemed fairly likely. 

Then there were the wrecked cars.  For the most part, those just had a gnarled up section or two.  But they must’ve sustained frame damage to wind up here.  There were a few cars that looked absolutely _destroyed_ and chilled Castiel to the bone to think of what may have happened to their passengers.

Towards the back of the lot, there were some nicer cars.  Most those ones were fairly young, to wind up here would have to be problems with the onboard computer systems.  They were probably plagued by a ghost-in-the-machine, otherwise they looked fine for a dealer to take them back.

Castiel was coming up on the last section of cars and losing hope in finding Dean here.  It would be his luck that it couldn’t just be this easy to find him.  The last section of cars was a mix of all the previous sections, Bobby must not have sorted them yet.  If he was going to. 

There was one car sitting in the very middle of the section that caught Castiel’s eye.  It was an older one, worn out by weather and too much road.  But it managed to maintain enough of its original fierce look.  If anything, the filth all over it gave it more character.  Castiel walked over to it and swiped his hand over the the front center of the hood.  His fingers came away caked, but there was a gleaming black finish where he’d wiped.  He rubbed at it a little more, revealing more of the glossy black paint.  It only had a few tiny chips and scratches from driving.  His hand drifted lower to the angled grill and cleaned off a spot, revealing shining chrome.  Castiel took a step back and imagined the car in cleaner condition; the light glinting off all its angles and contours, the chrome grille and bumper flashing at everything it went by…  Not to mention the rumble it was sure to have, given it was a muscle car probably twice as old as him.

“Nicest lady here, huh?”

Castiel looked up to see Bobby coming down the row of cars.

“Very nice,” Castiel agreed, “Stands out from the rest.”

“Yeah, not the muscle car and not the only Chevy in the lot.  But she is the only Impala,” Bobby said, “Keep meanin’ to fix her up a little.”

“What was wrong with it?” Castiel asked.

“Nothin’.  Just been sittin’ here forever now.”

“How’d it get here then?”

“A while back, when I was runnin’ my salvage yard full time back in North Dakota, this guy shows up with it one day,” Bobby starts, “Says he wanted to get rid of it.  And he had two little boys with him, so I figure he’s lookin’ to trade for something a little more— family-friendly.”

Castiel absently started walking around the car as he listen to Bobby.

“So I ask what he’s wantin’ for it.  He says ‘nothing’.  Thought that was strange, so I asked if he was sure.  Said he was.  He wanted to get rid of it because he said they didn’t need it anymore.  I asked if he had another car, because with two boys, an’ one old enough to be in school and groceries and all that crap, y’gotta have something,” Bobby continued, “But nope.  Had no other car, didn’t want another car.”

Castiel looked up at him curiously.

“One of the boys, the older one, damn near threw a fit soon as he realized what his dad was doin’,” Bobby added, “He told the boy to hush up, thanked me for taking the car, then left.  Carried the baby, practically dragged the kid.  And that was it.”

“Really?  That’s it?” Castiel asked incredulously.

“For its origins, yeah,” Bobby nodded, “And nothing ever happened after that.  Until—“

Bobby planted a spike in the ground and started fixing a mount to it.

“That damn wolf and John Doe came around a couple years ago.  Both of ‘em are real fascinated with this car.  Any time I caught head or tail of them for a second, they were always runnin’ from here.  And here’s the place I got the one picture of Mr. Doe.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes.  It took him only a second to connect all the dots; this was Dean’s father’s car from before they’d gone off the grid.  But it had been given to Bobby in North Dakota.  How Dean managed to find it here was beyond Castiel.

“You alright?”

“Huh?”

“Spacin’ out on me,” Bobby said, “You okay?”

“Oh, yes.  I’m fine, I was just thinking about something— It’s not important.”

“If you say so,” Bobby shrugged, “Looks like the flea bag ain’t here right now, but if I see him, I’ll let you know.”

“Please do.  Thank you.”

Castiel turned and started through the scrapyard.  He’d admit he was disappointed Dean wasn’t there.  He hoped it would be this easy to find him, but nothing could ever be easy.  Castiel got back in his truck and drove home, all the while thinking about how he was supposed to go about looking into the other location Sam had given him.  He considered just taking his truck, but with the hill to get down and back up, that probably wasn’t the best idea.  Castiel scowled and tried thinking of something else; there were ATVs in the barn.  He had no idea if they worked at all, but it was worth a shot.

As soon as he got home, he grabbed another jacket and a pair of gloves before heading down the hill to the barn.  It took some effort to open the barn door, since it had been frozen shut.  But a few kicks broke off most of the ice, wretching the handles took care of the rest.  He strode over to the cover vehicles and pulled their tarps off, crackling the frost that clung to the covers.  Castiel tossed the tarps aside and walked around them, looking for anything to suggest they couldn’t be used.  There was nothing seriously wrong with them; nothing visible at least.  But he found their keys weren’t in their ignition.  _Of course._

He sighed and searched through the barn, eventually finding one key half buried beneath crisp hay.  He snatched up and tried to start one of the ATVs.  Nothing happened.  He tried the other one and it made a sound of protest, whining as it tried to start.  Castiel wiped off the gauges and saw the gas was empty and the oil was low.  He grumbled inwardly and stuffed the key in his pocket.  He prodded and pried at the ATV, having no idea how to check anything engine related, but eventually managed to see what kind of oil it would need.  With that noted, he turned and left the barn.  Trying to walk back up the hill proved to be a little more difficult than he’d thought.  He fell in the snow more than once and slipped more than he’d like to count.

Once he made it to the house, he checked what time it was.  Any stores now would be closed.  Castiel let out a loud groan of frustration and flopped on the couch.  For a few minutes, he just laid there and strained to hear any kind of noise outside his house.  But there was still silence. 

After a while, he tried going to the kitchen to make something to eat, but nothing sounded appealing.  Nor did doing anything that wasn’t related to trying to get to Dean.  He forced himself to stop and take a deep breath, reminding himself that everything would be fine; he didn’t need to obsess over it.  Castiel felt a little better after a hot shower, but he was still too worked up to do anything else. 

It took him hours that night to fall asleep.  Even once he did, it was light and fitful, lasting only a couple hours.  In the morning, he busied himself until he knew stores were open again.  As soon as he knew they were, he was leaving the house.  The first shop was out of the oil he needed, but he was told to go to a particular outdoors shop; it didn’t get much business, but it always had everything.

To say it didn’t get much business was an understatement.  It was about as busy as the Roadhouse, which was not at all.  Castiel wandered up and down the aisles, looking for whichever one had oil.  It would probably help business a bit if they had aisle signs.  One of the employees noticed his lost wandering and came up behind him.

“Can I help y’find somethin’?”

Castiel flinched at his voice.

“Scare ya a little?” the man smirked.

“A little, yes,” Castiel answered, “I’m, uh, looking for oil for an ATV.”

“I think I can help with that, should be down this way.”

Castiel followed him as he went to the end of the aisle and down a few.  He was an older man, probably in his forties, with graying blond hair.  When he turned around, Castiel noticed the odd color of his eyes.  They were amber colored, somewhat like Gabriel’s, but with a little more gold.  Castiel glanced down at the name tag pinned to his jacket, _Azazel_.  He started to think it was a strange name, but then remembered his own; as well as most of his family.

“Whatever kind you need, right here,” Azazel said, “You plan on going ATVing in the snow?”

“Yes, I, um… I lost something a few days ago.”

“Gonna have a hard time finding it.”

“It’s fairly noticeable,” Castiel mused, “I just don’t know where it is.”

“Mind tellin’ me what?”

Castiel looked at Azazel, trying to think up something that wasn’t the truth.

“…My dog,” Castiel deadpanned.

Azazel tipped his head back a little, humming at the response.  He didn’t believe Castiel.  Of course, referring to your ‘dog’ as an ‘it’ was a decent tip he was lying about something.  But Castiel didn’t care what Azazel thought, he didn’t need to know anything.  He took the oil from the shelf, thanked him and started to leave.

“You know,” Azazel turned on his heels, “If you’re going out in the snow and ice, y’might want chains or snow tires.”

Castiel paused.  He was right, but there was something off about his tone.  As well as the faint smile playing at his lips.  Castiel hesitated, but went along with him anyway.  Azazel asked him a few more questions, offering little bits about himself to seem more friendly and put Castiel at ease.  He was a hunter who liked to track predatory game.  He’d once almost had what would’ve been the perfect wolf trophy, but a hunting accident ruined everything.  The more he talked, the more wary Castiel became.  Once he had the chains, Castiel was quick to leave.

“See y’soon!” Azazel called after him.

Castiel found that little comment creepy.  He didn’t like the feeling he got from the man and had zero plans to ever go back there again.  He tried pushing the thought of him away as he drove to the gas station before going back home.

As soon as he was home, Castiel stopped inside the house long enough to grab heavy, warm clothes.  He had every intention of heading out as soon as the ATV was working again.  Going back down the barn with his clothes, the oil, the chains and the gas was more than he should be carrying.  But he’d be damned if he had to make more than one trip. 

He dropped his clothes on the ground next to the vehicle, along with the chains.  He poured nearly half the bottle of oil into the ATV and an entire 2-gallon container of gas.  Luckily, he still has another 2-gallon container, just in case.  With that, he took the key out of his pocket and started the ignition.  The vehicle whined again, but started up after a couple tries.  He laid the chains out in front of each tire and rolled the ATV forward onto them, then set to hooking them together.  There was probably an easier way of putting the chains on, but this was the only way Castiel knew.

As soon as they were on, Castiel pulled on his extras clothes and opened the GPS on his phone.  It was an almost perfectly straight shot there, but said it was twenty-seven miles to the set coordinates.  Castiel felt his jaw drop.  Dean walked, or probably ran, twenty-seven miles just to come to his house and then going back…  His legs and feet hurt just thinking about that.  Castiel shook his head and went to open the barn door enough for the ATV to get through.  He took off quickly, instantly glad he bought the chains as he hit the snow.

For a few minutes, he was able to do around thirty-five miles an hour with ease.  Then the ground became uneven and made the ride downright unpleasant.  But he kept up at that pace anyway.  Snow started drifting down again, adding more to the blanket that still covered the ground.  Another few minutes found him hitting a thin, fallen tree; hidden by the snow.  The sudden impact threw him over the handle bars of the ATV and landing what he assumed was a bush.  He cursed the snow, the tree and the ATV as he fumbled and flailed to get free of the bush.  Castiel dusted himself off and trudged over to the tree, swiping the snow off its length in search of one end.  He wasn’t even going to try to drive over it.

He found the top several yards away and came back to the ATV, driving around that end and now proceeding at a slower pace.  After a few miles, Castiel got annoyed with the drive taking so long.  He sped up again, only to be jarred around by hidden rocks and small logs.  He put up with it for a while, but soon had to take a break from it.  He sat back on the ATV and pulled out his phone to see how close he was.  The signal down on the canyon floor was weak and he mentally ordered the GPS to reload faster, mumbling a “thank you” when it did.

The screen showed he was fifteen miles from home.  And nineteen miles from the coordinates.  Castiel cursed under his breath, realizing he’d gone off course at some point.  He kept his eyes on the screen as he maneuvered the ATV to face the direction he needed to go and kept his phone in his hand as he started off again.  He’d check it every few minutes now just to make sure he was staying on course.

He came up on the canyon wall again, hundreds of feet jagged cliff-face towering above him, and kept to its edge as he drove.  Following it led him on a winding path, but the coordinates had to be somewhere along its face.  There wasn’t really any other place for a cave and the GPS said he was getting closer everytime he checked. 

Several miles more, the GPS indicated he was there.  But he didn’t see any cave opening.  Castiel scowled, thinking that maybe the coordinates weren’t exact.  He had to be close though, so he continued driving along the wall.  The next time he check his phone, he’d gone three miles past the marked point.  Castiel glared at his phone just before hitting a large rock.  He dropped his phone as he awkwardly tried to hang on to the ATV.  He ended up falling only half way off of it and righted himself as he stood to look for his phone.  Castiel fluffed the snow around until his phone jumped up with it.  He fumbled to catch it and thankfully didn’t let it hit the ground again.

He straightened up with a sigh and glanced around.  Castiel had to make a decision now.  Daylight was fading fast and he hadn’t brought anything that could weather the winter night.  Castiel stuffed his phone into his pocket, deciding he could keep going.

He heard a stone tumble and whipped around, hoping to see Dean among the rocks somewhere.  If he was, he remained perfectly hidden.

“Dean?”

There was nothing.  Castiel stared a minute longer before slowly starting forward again.  Driving slower was almost worse.  Not only did it mean it took longer, but it also meant he could feel every single divot and bump; and they were not kind ones.  Some of them were either deep enough to knock him off balance or raised up enough to almost high-center the ATV.  But he supposed it was better than going faster; this way he couldn’t get thrown completely by something.

He checked his phone again as he drove to see if he was near the mark yet and managed to hit a divot deep enough to swallow the wheel.  Castiel dropped his phone in an effort to stop himself from hitting his head on the handles, which he barely managed to succeed in.  He pushed himself upright and sat there for a minute, glowering at wheel buried deeper than the rest.  Castiel sighed and got off the ATV, feeling through the snow for his phone first.  He found it sitting just in front of the back wheel, but no longer working.

He wanted to just throw it, and he almost did, but there was enough patience left in him to remind him he shouldn’t do that.  He wiped off the screen and bitterly stuffed it into his coat, walking around the ATV to try and lift the wheel out of the hole.  He took hold of the bars on the front, took a deep breath and tried to lift it.  The vehicle moved with him, but not enough to free it.  Castiel dropped it and stared at it, panting.  He took another breath and tried again, only to get the same result.  He kicked at the wheel and moved to sit back down.

Castiel dropped his head in his hands, frustration and fear working their way through him.  He should’ve gone back.  He should’ve told someone what he was doing.  Should’ve brought something just in case of emergency.  Should’ve never said what he did.  All his thoughts were overrun by ‘should have’.  He curled his hands into balls against his eyes, fighting back the burning tears beginning to sting at his eyes.  He let out a frustrated grunt and raised his head, taking deep breaths.  A movement off to the side caught his attention, filling him with cautious hope.

“Dean…?” Castiel called.

This time there was an answer, but the growl was too high pitched for Dean.  The body was too long, too short, too narrow…  Not Dean.  A mountain lion, he quickly realized.  Fear ran through him so quickly, he could swear his blood turned as cold as the air around him.  The mountain lion stalked around Castiel, gauging how best to go at him.  Castiel remained perfectly still, only moving enough to keep an eye on the predator as he tried to remember what to do in this situation.  The mountain lion turned and ran straight for him.

Castiel yelped and dropped to the side of the ATV as it leapt for him, claws outstretched and mouth wide in a roar.  He shielded himself with his arms, bracing for an inevitable mauling and death.  The last thought to run through his mind was _Dean_.

But the pain didn’t come.  Instead, there was a heart stopping growl, shriek and the sound of bodies hitting the frozen ground.  Castiel’s heart skipped several beats as he forced himself to peek around the ATV.  The mountain lion flailed to right itself, crouching low and snarling at its attacker; who just happened to be a very large dire wolf.  Dean was crouched low, lips curled back over sharp fangs as a menacing growl rumbled through him.  Castiel could see his ears laid flat and hackles raised, his tail occasionally whipping from side to side in the same manner as the mountain lion’s.

As soon as the mountain lion moved, only a few inches closer, Dean lunged forward.  The mountain lion shrank to the ground, snarling and reaching out to bat at Dean.  Its claws raked across his face, but didn’t stop him from sinking his teeth into the offending limb.  The cat howled in pain, twisting onto its back and using its other three legs to claw at Dean.  He snarled and snapped his head to the side and a loud crack followed, along with a shrill wail.  He released the broken limb with a growl and went for its neck, clamping down with enough force that he was almost able to close his mouth completely.

The cat flailed in a last ditch effort to save its own life, managing to drag its claws along Dean’s face and neck before he broke its own neck.  All the fight and life immediately drained from the mountain lion and Dean let it fall from his mouth.

He shook his head, letting the motion roll down his body, and half turned to face Castiel.  He could see the deep cuts now staining his fur and dripping down onto the snow.  Dean dipped his head lower and took the lifeless creature up in his jaws again, dragging it along with him.

“Dean, wait!”

He stalled for a moment, one ear and his tail twitching, but then continued on.  Castiel scrambled to his feet and started after him, leaving the ATV behind.  Dean was moving surprisingly quick for being injured and carrying a dead mountain lion, but Castiel just doubled his efforts to keep up.

He had no idea where Dean was going though.  They kept walking further from the point that Sam had marked and Castiel wondered, not for the first time, if that point had been a general area.  Or maybe it was just where Sam knew Dean would be hunting.  Every couple minutes Dean would glance over his shoulder to see if Castiel was still following him.  And every time he did that, he’d stall and drop his head like he was thinking about something before continuing on.  There were a few times Castiel tripped and landed hard in the snow, but he was quick to scramble back to his feet. 

But after about the dozenth time, it was starting to get harder to get back up.  He was sore, exhausted and now starting to freeze; thanks to all the snow that had worked its way into his clothes.  He fell again and barely managed to get up before another rock dropped him to the ground.  Castiel decided to lay there for a minute and catch his breath.  Dean wasn’t moving fast and, for the most part, was going in a straight line.  He wouldn’t lose him after just a few minutes.  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes just for a minute.

 

When Castiel woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was warm.  For a second, he thought maybe it’d been a dream, but a lazy crackling sound told him it wasn’t.  He slowly cracked his eyes opened and was staring at a stony ceiling with shadows dancing across it.  He followed the light down to a small fire on a bed of embers about two yards away.  The next thing he noticed was the weight laying on top of him.  Soft furs with well-tanned skins were layered over him. 

Castiel sat up and held one of the furs in his hands.  He gently ran his thumbs over the worn, leathery skin and marveled at the quality of it.  Sitting up, he realized most of his clothes were gone.  He was down to just a shirt, pants and socks.  He glanced around for them and saw hanging next to a fresher pelt on a makeshift rack.  Through the drying liquids, he could see puncture holes and a few cuts.  He crawled over closer to it and moved part of it to see the fur; the mountain lion.  He twisted around and looked for the body, but saw nothing.  Dean had probably been hungry enough to eat the whole thing.

He pushed himself to his feet, wrapping a pelt around himself like a blanket and stumbled over rocks down one way.  It was apparently the entrance; Dean had said there were pelts acting as curtains to keep the cold out and Castiel could feel the freezing air coiling around the furs.  He quickly retreated back up to the fire.  Castiel glanced around again; the cave didn’t appear to go much deeper than this, but there was no sign of Dean.  He dropped back down beside the furs, scooting towards the fire and hugging the pelt closer with a hum.  Castiel was hypnotized by the flames and stared at them for what felt like hours, until a touch on his shoulder had him nearly jump out of his skin.

“Al-right?” Dean asked.

“Yeah…” Castiel breathed.

He did a double take at Dean; there were no signs of a fight with the mountain lion on him.  No dried blood, no bruises, no cuts… Nothing, like it hadn’t happened.  Castiel narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side.

“How long was I asleep?” Castiel asked carefully.

“Not sure.  Cuh-ple hours?” Dean guessed.

“Then how— how does it not look like some wild cat clawed your face?”

Dean tensed slightly.

“Fast healer,” Dean shrugged.

He sat down next to the fire, keeping an arm’s length from Castiel, and settled down to watch the fire.  Castiel chewed his lip for a minute or two, trying to figure out how to break the silence.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel murmured.

Dean flicked his eyes up at him.

“I lied…kind of,” Castiel started, “When Gabriel was implying that we were something, I didn’t know how to respond—“

Dean dropped his gaze back to the fire.

“He’s teased me before, but the reason I didn’t know how to respond was because…I didn’t know if it was something, or I was hallucinating, or it was some kind of cultural barrier or whatever,” Castiel continued, “But somewhere along the line…”

He had Dean’s attention again.

“I— I think I fell in love with you.”

Castiel chanced a glance at Dean.  The look on his face was indescribable, he was just staring at him.  And, to be honest, Castiel was sure he’d stopped breathing.  He suddenly felt small under Dean’s stare and clutched the pelt closer, shifting uncomfortably.

“I mean, if it is a cultural thing and I’ve misunderstood,” Castiel said quickly, “Then I— I apologize, I just assumed from your reaction that maybe—“

“Stop.”

Castiel clamped his mouth shut and swallowed.

“Was cuhl-chur-al…” Dean sounded out, “But is how court.”

Castiel was going to say something, but it looked like Dean wanted to add something else.

“You— were first to start.  Not normal I didn’t start,” Dean mumbled.

“How did I…?”

“When give blanket,” Dean started.

Castiel had to think for a moment before remembering when he’d given Dean a blanket.  When he’d been so adamant about sleeping under the kitchen window, then the barn.

“Not sure what doing, but then let stay in house,” Dean added, “Thought was courting.”

In retrospect, Castiel could understand it.  Thinking in that context, he’d very much been courting Dean just as Dean had done for him.

“And…’feel in l-love with you’ too,” Dean mimicked.

In that moment, Castiel could swear his spirit left him.  He choked out a breath with a half-smile and made a move to get closer to Dean.  Dean closed the gap faster, crawling over and wrapping his arms around Castiel as he nuzzled his neck.  Castiel returned the embrace, never wanting to let him go again.  Dean pushed at him, not to let go, but to make him lay back.  When he did, Dean snuggled up against him, more clingy than when they’d slept together.  He alternated between lazily nuzzling his face against Castiel’s neck and brushing his face against Castiel’s check.  It was a little weird to have someone doing that, but Castiel couldn’t bring himself to care.  It was actually really nice.  He even started to do it back to Dean.  Castiel was more than positive that if Dean were a wolf right now, his tail would be thumping hard against the ground.

Castiel was a little disappointed when Dean’s affections slowed.  He looked down at Dean and realized he was half asleep now.  Castiel smiled softly and let his thoughts wander.  When he thought again of Dean’s miraculously healed injuries, he nudged Dean’s head.

“You know, I don’t believe you.”

“…What?”

“I don’t believe you,” Castiel repeated, “When you said you were a fast healer.  There’s no way your injuries would’ve healed in just a few hours.”

“Not human,” Dean reminded him.

“Even still, I don’t believe it.”

Dean sighed and sat back.

“Had help,” Dean admitted.

“From…?”

“Not believe.”

“I didn’t think skinwalkers were real, but here I am.”

Dean pursed his lips, nodding his head once to the side.  He pushed himself up to his feet and started towards the back of the cave. 

“Follow,” Dean said.

Castiel got up and walked up behind him, not understanding where exactly Dean was going to go.  Dean knelt down and shoved at a rock twice the size of Castiel’s torso until it tipped over and he lowered it down.  Behind it was a dark, narrow tunnel.  Dean led the way in with Castiel right behind him. 

The tunnel opened up a bit, enough that they could stand hunched over, but crawling was still easier.  Castiel had absolutely no idea which way they were going or how far.  All he knew was that it was unpleasant and becoming very tiresome.  He couldn’t even see Dean in front of him.  More than once he’d accidentally grabbed Dean’s ankle and he was sure in those moments his face had come very close to Dean’s ass. 

A dull light faintly illuminated the end of the tunnel, silhouetting Dean.  He was relieved when they reached they light and were able to stand up straight again.  But that relief was quickly stricken with awe.

A stream, probably two or three feet deep and five feet wide, meandered from a tight opening over worn-smooth stones to an equally tight exit and was lined with dozens of broken rocks.  Among those rocks were small geodes, glittering with amethyst and topaz and reflecting what little light managed to filter into the cave through cracks and holes.  There were even a few emerald and sapphire geodes beneath the crystal clear water.  A couple stalactites hung down from the ceiling, lazily dripping water either into the stream onto the geodes. 

“What is this…?” Castiel murmured.

“Owášte mniblézela.”

Castiel snapped his head towards Dean, scowling in confusion.

“Healing water,” Dean clarified, “Sam found.”

“How does it— work?”

“Not sure, just lay in it,” Dean answered, “Sam says spirits…Trust?”

“Yes…?” Castiel replied cautiously.

Dean held out his hand for Castiel’s.  Castiel eyed Dean suspiciously, but reluctantly gave him his hand.  Dean lifted and moved quickly, before Castiel had a chance to reconsider, biting hard on the side of his hand.  Castiel yelped and recoiled, stumbling back and tripping over the rocks.  He glanced at his hand, bleeding profusely from surprisingly deep teeth marks and burning from pain.  He cradled his hand, glaring up at Dean with a mixture of confusion and anger.  He gave Castiel a look of sincere apology and offered his hand again.  Castiel narrowed his eyes at him and refused this time.

“Not going to hurt,” Dean promised.

He flexed his fingers, prompting Castiel to take his hand.  Castiel stood up, but still didn’t take his hand.  Dean sighed and reached for Castiel’s wrist.  Castiel resisted weakly and kept a close eye on Dean’s movements.  But all he did was lead him over to the stream and bring him to kneel down beside it.  Then he motioned for Castiel to put his hand in the water.  He did as Dean indicated, feeling the cool water immediately sooth the burning and throbbing pain.  Then a tingling sensation ran up the length of his arm.  He twitched to pull away from it, but Dean caught him and kept him in place. 

Dean seemed to know when the tingling faded away because he let go just as it stopped.  Castiel shook the water off and looked at his hand.  It was fine.  Castiel blinked and turned his hand over, inspecting it closer.  There was no evidence whatsoever that Dean had bit him and it felt perfectly normal. 

“This is amazing…” Castiel breathed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dean staring at him and his heart was suddenly caught in his throat.  He swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, turning his attention to the handful of geodes littered around.  All their colors and sparkling brought his attention back around to Dean, still watching him thoughtfully.  He wanted to do something, but he felt trapped just watching the lights of the geodes on Dean’s face.  As if reading his mind, Dean moved forward slowly until he was just a couple inches from Castiel’s face.  He paused for a second and touched his forehead to Castiel’s and waited. 

The second his breath ghosted over Castiel’s lips, Castiel snapped out of his stupor and pressed his lips to Dean’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Owášte mniblézela" literally means "healing, clear water" in Lakota. could not find a Sioux translation for the life of me, but that's why i said Dean could speak a few different languages.  
> BUT a couple important things were established here, have fun with guessing because there's a new plot lurking in the distance  
> you can also follow me on [tumblr](http://leo-arcana.tumblr.com) which you totally should


	14. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoa a rating upgrade? new tags? what could that possibly mean??

Castiel sighed deeply and slowly blinked his eyes open, furrowing his brows at the darkness still around him.  He lifted his head and looked in the general direction of where the fire should’ve been; it was down to dying embers now.  Then he gave a weak groan when he felt arms constrict around him.  He didn’t think Dean could snuggle against him any tighter than before, but apparently he was wrong.  Castiel wasn’t complaining though; as long as he could breathe and didn’t feel like he was going to have a heat stroke, Dean could hold him as tight as he wanted.

He dropped his head back down.  Despite having slept on a cave floor, which wasn’t so bad, thanks to the furs, Castiel wasn’t tired enough to go back to sleep.  He gave another sigh and thought about the previous night. 

It hadn’t ended with just that chaste little kiss.  The air had been buzzing between them after that.  Castiel had reacted before Dean and was pushing him back, kissing with a little more passion then.  It hadn’t taken more than a minute before Dean wrapped his arms around his waist and flipped them over, so he had been laying over Castiel.  It had taken Dean even less time to start grinding against him, undeterred by Castiel being fully clothed while he was naked.  But as soon as Dean’s hand had moved to the hem of Castiel’s pants, Castiel had stopped him.  Dean stilled and stared at him in confusion, but Castiel had no words for him.

Thankfully, he didn’t need them.  Dean had taken it back a few clicks, content with once again just nipping and nuzzling.  Castiel only vaguely remembered leaving the hidden cave— a grotto, he supposed— and curling up with Dean under the furs.

Dean stirred next to him, lifting himself just enough to lazily glance around.  The feeble light provided by the dying embers managed to catch his eyes and give them an other-worldly glow, just like any animal in the dark.  But it gave Castiel chills to see that on a human face.  Dean looked at him curiously before ducking down for a quick kiss, then getting up on his hands and knees to stretch.  Castiel sat up, barely managing to suppress a shudder at the cool air as the furs fell away.  He quickly wrapped one around himself and brought his knees up to make up for the lack of Dean’s warmth.  He sat there quietly, listening to Dean move about doing something, until his stomach made a noise of protest that was made louder by the rocky walls.

Castiel went completely still and slid his eyes over towards Dean as a slight blush crept onto his cheeks.  He hadn’t since he’d left to come find Dean, which was…well, who knows how long ago that was now.  His sense of time had been easily ruined by passing out and having not been outside yet.  Dean stared at him with mild concern and glanced around the cave for any food he might not have eaten yet.  Of course, there wasn’t. 

“Want leave?” Dean asked.

Castiel didn’t really want to leave, he wanted to stay there a little while longer.  But the hunger was gnawing at him quickly.

“I suppose…” Castiel sighed.

Dean pulled his clothes off the makeshift rack and handed them back to him.  They were a little stiff from how they’d dried, but at least they were dry.  Castiel got dressed and moved around to work out the stiffness as Dean walked past him down to the front of the cave and stepped out.  Castiel followed a second later.  The sun was already low in the sky; Christmas was all but over and he’d had the least conventional Christmas ever.  He looked down from the sky to see the wolf waiting for him.  He groaned mentally at the thought of how far they had to go.

Castiel climbed on to Dean’s back, this time with a little more grace.  Dean started off and it didn’t long for him to reach a quick and smooth pace.  Castiel sighed and lowered himself, rubbing his face once against the soft fur.  He let his mind wander as Dean ran, staring absently at the snow around them.  Castiel swore it couldn’t have been more than five minutes before Dean started slowing down.

Dean stopped and Castiel sat up at the lack of movement.  Dean twisted his head around to look over his shoulder as best he could up at Castiel.

“What?” Castiel asked.

Dean huffed and turned his head to the side.  Castiel followed and saw the ATV sitting a few yards away, with a fresh and thick layer of snow on it.  He didn’t know how bad it was damaged now, if it was at all, not to mention it definitely didn’t have enough gas to get back now.  Courtesy of Castiel going off course and Sam not giving _exact_ coordinates.  It’d be too much effort to bring back.  Plus, it wasn’t even actually his and there was another one in the barn.

“It’s fine, just leave it,” Castiel mumbled.

He settled down, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck again.  Dean moved in some way that Castiel was sure was a shrug and started running.  Castiel stared off to the side, watching the snowy cliffside fly by in a blur, barely interrupted by the occasional trees until it became almost completely obscured by them as they went into the forest. 

He’d never get over how smoothly Dean could move.  Even when he faltered on hidden object, he recovered gracefully enough that Castiel almost didn’t notice.  He buried his face in Dean’s fur, shielding himself from the icy wind.  He didn’t look up again until Dean slowed down and his movements were more noticeable.

Castiel could see his house now, dark and probably just as cold as it was outside now.  Dean trotted up to the porch, letting Castiel off before shifting.  Castiel opened the door and moved inside stiffly, going to the kitchen the check what time it was; 9 _:14pm._   It was too late to do anything, he just sighed and went about making something for dinner.  He made an easy dinner, just mac ‘n cheese, and thought about making extra for Dean.  But he seemed content with having gotten into the bag of dog treats that had been left on the counter.  He looked somewhat embarrassed at being caught, but then he just huffed and held his head up in a dignified manner and strode into the living room with Castiel following.

They ate in comfortable silence, the wolf laying over his feet as he gnawed the tough treats.  By the time Castiel had finished dinner, Dean had finished off the treats.  Castiel just rolled his eyes and made a mental note to get more.  Castiel cleaned up the kitchen and when washing the dishes, decided he needed a shower.  That was an easy decision.  The thing that wasn’t an easy decision was whether or not he wanted to offer Dean to join him.

It honestly hadn’t been something he’d been thinking about, the thought just popped into his head.  He stood at the counter thinking about it; it seemed rather intimate.  But then again, Dean had been grinding on him not too long ago.  This was a different kind of intimate, Castiel reasoned.

“Okay?”

“Huh?”

“Okay?” Dean repeated.

Castiel stared at him for minute before realizing how long he’d been standing there, just staring at the sink.

“Oh, um, yeah.  I think I’m just gonna go take a shower,” Castiel swallowed thickly, “…w-would you care to join?”

Dean blinked at him a few times in surprise, eyes scanning over his face.  Castiel fidgeted with his fingers, taking a deep breath and starting in the direction of the bathroom.

“You don’t have to,” Castiel said, “I just thought—“

“Yes.”

Castiel stopped and glanced over his shoulder.  He had a hard time describing the look on Dean’s face; it was gentle, loving, adoring…something like that, but all of it was almost subtle.  If Castiel didn’t know Dean, he’d probably have missed it.  He felt a heat blossom in his chest and turned on his heels to hide the blush he could feel start to creep on his face.  He tried in vain to fight off the smile, hearing Dean happily follow him.

He grabbed two towels out of the closet and went to the bathroom.  Starting the water and stripping down with Dean there doing nothing was a little more awkward than Castiel had imagined it would be.  In truth, the whole thing seemed awkward now, he’d never showered with anyone before.  But he wasn’t changing his mind.  He stepped under the spray, moving to the side enough for Dean to come in as well. 

Castiel dipped his head under the spray, soaking his hair and wiping the dripping water from his face.  Dean copied him, but shook his head to get rid of the excess, flinging it at Castiel.  Castiel stood there for a second, then just wiped his face again with a smirk.  He flicked his hands at Dean, sending water back at him.  Dean flinched and stared back at him like he couldn’t believe he’d done that.  Castiel rolled his eyes with a sigh and grabbed the bottle of shampoo, accidentally knocking the bar of soap down.  Both of them jumped to avoid having their foot struck by it and threw each off balance as the soap ricocheted.

Dean hit the ceramic first, landing hard with a resounding thud.  A heartbeat later, Castiel landed on top of him and nearly knocked the wind out of him.  Dean groaned and let his head fall back against the tub as Castiel tried to get up.  He sat back between Dean’s legs, twisting around to see if he was okay. 

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked.

Dean turned on his side, moving his hand behind his back and finding the bar of soap.  He tossed it past Castiel, sending it into another short ricochet.

“Fine,” Dean smiled.

Castiel frowned at him.  Dean just smirked and sat up, roping an arm around Castiel’s neck and bringing him close.

“Fine,” Dean repeated, more earnestly.

He gave Castiel a quick peck and let him go.  Castiel shook his head and turned away from him, but remained sitting on the floor of the tub.  Sitting down in the shower was actually quite nice.  He picked up the shampoo again and started washing his hair, only pausing when he felt Dean’s legs move as he shifted.  Before he could look over his shoulder, Dean was batting his hands away from his head and taking over.  Castiel sat there dumbstruck with his arms half raised as Dean worked his fingers through his hair with surprising gentleness.  Castiel let out a content sigh, bordering on a quiet moan, and relaxed into his touch.

Too soon, Dean stopped and tipped Castiel’s head under the water.  He rinsed everything off and awkwardly turned around to return the favor.  Dean just leaned forward, thinking it was too much effort for him to turn around as well.  He just leaned on his arms braced in the small space between himself and Castiel.

It didn’t take long for the shampoo to darken with dirt.  Just because Dean said he took ‘baths’ in rivers and lakes didn’t mean they were actually _baths._   He probably just rinsed off or soaked, like when Castiel had made him take a hot bath after nearly getting hypothermia.  Castiel took longer washing Dean hair, trying to get all the dirt out.  He made Dean lean further forward to rinse off, using his hand to block the dirty, soapy water from getting in his eyes.  He even washed Dean’s hair a second time to make sure all the dirt was out.

Dean took the initiative and reached around Castiel for the soap, working up a lather around the bar and starting at Castiel’s shoulders.  Castiel watched Dean as he rubbed, the thoughtfulness and meticulousness in his eyes.  Castiel made a sound of protest when Dean manhandled him around to get his back.  But it felt even nicer, Dean was practically giving him massage now.  Castiel was lost in the feeling of it until Dean’s hands came down to his hips.  Then he was suddenly extremely aware of how nice it felt.  He tensed up as Dean’s hands rubbed around his hips, as best they could with Dean’s legs blocking him, and came close to his half-hard cock with every stroke.  Castiel hoped the heated blush on his face would steal back some of the blood.  But Dean didn’t come any closer than the dip of Castiel’s hips and just below his navel.

Castiel scooted forward to rinse off when Dean pulled away.  This time, Dean did make the effort to turn around.  Likewise, Castiel started at Dean’s shoulders.  He took his time, mapping out the tense muscles of his broad shoulders.  Castiel peaked over Dean’s shoulder; he was relaxed with his eyes closed and head drooped.  Castiel pressed harder, seeing if he could get the muscles to relax, but to no avail.  Every other muscle in Dean’s back was just as tense.

He worked his hands under Dean’s arms to wash his chest and stomach.  He kept clear of Dean’s crotch, offering him the same respect.  But he couldn’t stop himself from peaking over his shoulder again to glance down.  His cheeks heated up again at the sight of Dean’s well-endowed dick, but the feeling dissipated; he was completely soft.

Castiel tilted his head and knitted his brows together.  Did it not feel as good to Dean?  Was he doing a bad job?  What—

Dean moved and Castiel recoiled back, trying to act casual.  Dean leaned back with a sigh until his head rested on Castiel’s shoulder and looked up at him curiously.

“What?” Castiel managed.

“Nuh-thing,” Dean smiled.

Dean straightened up and crowded back at Castiel to get under the spray of water and rinse off.  As soon as he was done, Castiel decided to turn the water off.  He dried off quickly and went straight to his room to get dressed in pajamas before the shower’s warmth wore off.  By the time he’d gotten dressed, Dean was already crawling into bed.  His skin looked a little bit lighter now, having been properly washed, and his hair looked softer; despite still being damp.

Castiel crawled up next to him and Dean wrapped his around him and held him close.  Castiel made it a point to keep his back to Dean’s chest; his half-hard on hadn’t gone away completely.  Dean nuzzled at his neck, gently pressing kisses at the corner of his jaw.  Castiel felt his blood start moving lower again and made only a weak effort to keep his mind clear. He didn’t feel compelled to stop Dean when his hands went to his hips and held tight.  Maybe because they weren’t on a cave floor now, or maybe because there was a lack urgency now.

Either way, when Dean nipped at Castiel’s ear, he rolled his hips back against Dean.  Now Dean was starting to get hard.  Castiel repeated the motion, grinding back a little bit harder.  Dean stalled and gripped his hips tighter, swallowing a whine.  Castiel opened his legs, just enough for Dean to slide his cock through and start humping with small thrusts.  He panted against Castiel’s neck as he placed open mouthed kisses along the back joint of his shoulder and neck.  One hand slid down to start palming at Castiel while the other slipped beneath the elastic of his pajama pants and went for his ass.

No, Castiel wasn’t ready to go _that_ far yet.  He twisted around in Dean’s hold and pushed at him until he was on his back.  He crawled on top of Dean, taking the lead and now being the one leaving kisses on his jaw.  Dean tried wrapping his arms around Castiel a few times, but each time Castiel pushed them back down his sides.  He started moving lower, leaving a trail down Dean’s neck, chest, stomach…

He paused a moment, letting out a shaky before placing a kiss on the head of Dean’s cock.  Dean whined and bucked up, earning a smile and quiet laugh from Castiel.  He placed another at the base of his cock and kitten-licked his way back up Dean’s shaft.  Dean worked his hands helplessly, wanting to grab Castiel’s hair but thinking Castiel would just bat them away again.  He twisted his hands into the sheets when Castiel sucked him down.

From Dean’s restlessness, Castiel could tell he wanted to flip them over and take charge again, but was resisting and waiting for a cue from Castiel.  Not tonight, but maybe next time.  Castiel tried to still Dean’s legs with his hands, which took as much strength as he could muster from that position.  He ducked his head lower, trying to take in more of Dean.  The problem was that he had a gag reflex; even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to swallow all of Dean.  Castiel bobbed his head, hollowing his cheeks everytime he came up and grinding against the mattress to give some relief to his clothed cock.

He chanced a look up at Dean and was met with desperation and blackened eyes with a thin ring of green.  Castiel pulled off Dean with a wet sound and a grin, moving to lick up his shaft again but was interrupted by Dean bucking up and lifting him with.

“Hold still,” Castiel chided.

Dean whimpered and swallowed, nodding stiffly.  Castiel smiled again and trailed his tongue up the full length.  He swiped his tongue over the head and sucked him down again, chancing bringing one hand up to work Dean’s base in tandem.  Dean whined loudly and rolled his hips, trying to thrust up into Castiel’s mouth.  Castiel glared up at him and growled— tried to growl in disapproval.  That only made it worse for Dean.

He thrashed and writhed more, desperately trying to keep himself still to no avail.  Castiel was too focused on helping hold him while continuing to blow him to notice how his fingers started to come apart everytime they slide down the base of Dean’s cock.  Dean lost control and bucked straight up, nearly gagging Castiel as he came hard, shocking Castiel into his own orgasm.  Castiel sputtered cum around Dean’s cock while making an effort to swallow as much as he could, but Dean just kept coming.

He pulled off with a gasp and marveled as more cum continued to spill from Dean’s cock.  He licked it up as fast as he could, only keeping even until Dean finally tapered off. 

Castiel dropped his forehead against Dean’s thigh, gasps quieting to pants.  He turned his head towards Dean, watching his chest heave.  He closed his eyes for a minute, swallowing and regaining control of his breathing.  He became aware of the mess now in his boxers and pajama pants and groaned at the thought of having to clean up.  Both of them needed to clean up again. 

Castiel opened his eyes and lifted his head to start licking up Dean’s cock, but stalled when he saw the swollen base.  Too many questions zipped through his mind to find a coherent one to ask, but one thing in his mind stood out and answered all the questions.  _Dog._   Dogs had knots.  Dean was a skinwalker, which turned into a kind of dog.  His knot transferred to human half as well.  Never had Castiel been thankful for having a gag reflex, but he was now.  Just the thought of that being locked in his mouth.  Castiel choked back a cry as a second wave ripped through him.

He trembled as he licked all around Dean’s cock, lapping up every drop of missed cum until he was clean.  Then Castiel collapsed, using Dean’s leg for a pillow.  He groaned and protested when Dean moved and hooked his hands under his arms and hauled him up next to him.  Dean laid him on his back and took Castiel’s position.  Castiel could see the stain seeping through his pants just before Dean tugged them off, the stain on his boxers was worse.  Dean removed those as well, exposing Castiel’s cock to the cool air, more chilling thanks to cum.  Castiel shivered and glanced down at Dean to see him licking up his mess.  If Castiel had any energy left, he might’ve come a third time.

He tipped his head back with a moan, enjoying the short over stimulation until Dean was satisfied.  Then he crawled back up the bed, dropping beside Castiel and snuggling up to him.  Castiel haphazardly reached for the edge of the blanket and threw it over them; they hadn’t even bothered getting under the covers before and now it was just too much effort to do so.  Dean hummed in appreciation, rubbing his face against Castiel’s before falling asleep.  Castiel stayed awake long enough to smile faintly before falling under as well.

 

Castiel woke up late the next morning, feeling better than he had in a long time.  Dean was still fast asleep behind him, jaw slack and snoring lightly.  He snuggled back against him, disrupting the snoring and hearing a content sigh.  It was silly, but Castiel almost felt like a teenager again.  He lifted his hand to trace patterns over the back of Dean’s hand, quirking a smile when Dean’s pinky twitched every time Castiel went over the metacarpal of his ring finger.  He sighed and looked up at the clock on the night stand, _11:14am_.  Castiel went back to tracing patterns, glad he didn’t have to work until the day after Christmas.

Then his brain short circuited.  Today was the day after Christmas and he was supposed to be at the Roadhouse almost an hour and a half ago.  Castiel thrashed wildly, snapping Dean awake with an elbow to the ribs and kick in the shin as he scrambled to get out from under the blanket.  Dean bolted up and tensed, frantically looking around for the cause of panic.  Seeing nothing, he sat back on the bed and stared at Castiel as he got dressed as fast as he could.

“Cas?”

“I’m late!”

“What for?”

“Work,” Castiel snapped, pulling his shirt over his head.

Dean dropped his eyes, rolling his jaw.  He never liked it when Castiel had to work, but especially now.  He wanted to keep Castiel to himself all day.  All week, just like a honeymoon or something.  Castiel noticed his downcast expression and slowed down for a minute, feeling a dull ache in his throat.

“Hey, um…at least I won’t be gone as long,” Castiel offered.

Dean snorted and cracked half a smile.  Castiel took a half step to the door and stopped.  It felt wrong to just leave like he used to.  He turned and hurried back over to Dean, leaning down for a quick kiss.  Dean smiled against him, daring to steal a second one when he pulled away.  It was almost enough to make Castiel melt and call in.

He hurried out of the room and practically ran through the house to his truck.  More of the snow had melted, but there was still enough that Castiel didn’t even try to speed past the limit.  By the time he reached the Roadhouse, he was late by just over two hours and Ellen was waiting for him.  He swallowed nervously, trying to think up a valid excuse that didn’t sound like something out of fantasy-romance novel.  As soon as he opened his mouth, she held up a hand.

“I don’t even wanna hear it,” Ellen deadpanned, “You get to clean the fridge and freezer tonight now, instead of Ash.”

Castiel heard a muffled cheer from the kitchen, followed by the sound of something dropping and a curse.  Ellen pursed her lips, hiding the tiny smile that tugged at her lips in an effort to maintain her seriousness.  Castiel nodded in acceptance of his punishment, silently glad it wasn’t worse. 

“Nice bed head, by the way,” Ellen commented as she walked away.

He raised a hand to his hair and felt it fluffed and sticking out in different directions.  He tried to comb it down with his fingers as he walked back to the kitchen, but it only helped a little.  He shrugged and went to the kitchen, figuring he’d at least start cleaning the fridge and freezer before the rush hit.  Castiel had gotten into them before, they really didn’t seem that bad.  It would just be tedious to move everything out, clean, then move everything back.  But once he cleared two shelves of food, he saw it really _was_ that bad.  The food was fine, but the walls of the fridge were filthy and stained with god knows what.  He groaned as he pulled the racks out of the fridge and started clearing more shelves.

Jo came into the kitchen and must’ve taken some pity on Castiel as she moved the food to a back-up cooler for him.  Once everything was out, he could actually start cleaning it and mindless did so.  Of course, not focusing on anything, Dean was what came to the forefront of his mind.

“So, who is it?” Jo sang.

Castiel snapped back to where he was.

“Who’s who?”

“C’mon.  You come in late with your hair all messed up _like that,_ ” Jo grinned, “And you’ve got a dopey grin on your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Castiel stated, matter-of-factly.

He kept his eyes locked on the filth he was scrubbed, pointedly ignoring Jo as she walked up beside him.

“Seriously, c’mon,” Jo pleaded, “I won’t tell anyone.”

Castiel kept silent.

“Is she pretty?”

Still silence.  Jo tipped her head to the side, eyeing Castiel with a hint of amusement.

“Is _he_ pretty?”

Castiel clenched his jaw.

“Oh, so it is a guy,” Jo smiled.

“It’s also none of your concern.”

“Please, just because every other person in this state is a homophobe, doesn’t mean I am,” Jo drawled, “You can tell me about him, I wanna hear.”

Montana was quite conservative and, honestly, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.  In the few, very few, bigger cities, they might be more open minded.  And while Missoula may be one of the more populated areas, it didn’t count as one of those cities.  He pushed the thought from his mind, that was a problem he’d deal with when it happened.  For now, his problem was Jo’s curiosity.

Castiel huffed and sat back, looking up at her.  He wasn’t the greatest at describing things, let alone people.  Jo seemed to pick up on that though.

“What’s his name?” Jo asked.

“Dean.”

“How tall is he?”

“A couple inches more than me.”

“Jeez, and you’re not exactly short,” Jo teased, “How big is he?”

“ _What_?”

“Oh my god, no,” Jo turned just as red as Castiel, “I meant like— muscles!”

“Oh, um…” Castiel swallowed, “I don’t know, he’s very well built.”

Jo nodded and kept asking questions, trying to piece together what Dean looked like.  She probably had a fairly accurate image, but it was probably still nothing compared to actually seeing. 

From the sounds outside the kitchen, business was starting to pick up and Castiel hadn’t even finished the fridge yet.  He got up to go to the bar, Jo pushed him back down.

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover it,” Jo said, “Just hurry up.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled and left the kitchen to tend to the bar.  With her doing that, he could finish cleaning before closing and wouldn’t have to stay late.  He didn’t even try to hide the smile that crossed his face then.  It took the better part of an hour to scrub the fridge and a couple minutes more to put everything back in it.  The freezer took longer though.  Technically, Castiel should’ve turned it off and let the frost and ice melt off, but he wasn’t that patient and took to scraping it to get it done faster.  The freezer took just under two hours to clean.

He went up to the bar to let Jo out.  It hadn’t been too busy, but it had been enough she couldn’t leave.  When she did, she made him promise to buy her lunch as a thank you and to bring Dean in sometime.  That was fair enough.  Dean would probably like it here anyway, it wasn’t too crowded and the food portions were on the bigger side.  Not enough to fill him up, but still.

The rest of the shift carried on as normal.  Before he could leave though, Ellen caught him to talk to him.  He thought for a moment he might still be in trouble, but Jo and Ash had to stay with.  She told them that there was going to be a New Year’s Eve party there and that all the food and drinks would be half priced.  It was an effort to bring in more business and it would definitely work.  Half priced alcohol on any holiday always worked.  They were welcomed, encouraged even, to bring their friends or family to hang out with; so long as business allowed and they kept up on demands.

“Bring Dean,” Jo whispered as Ellen kept talking.

Castiel gave her a half-hearted sideways glare; he’d already been planning on it.  But the more he thought about it, the more he wasn’t sure.  If Dean got nervous being in a grocery store he’d been to dozens of times, would he be alright coming to an unfamiliar place with more people than it normally had?  Castiel wouldn’t be able to spend the entire night with him, but if Sam and Jessica came too, maybe it would work. 

Ellen talked for about another minute until she realized she’d lost all three of them.  She shook her head and sent them home for the night.  Castiel kept thinking about the New Year’s party the whole way home, weighing whether or not it would be a good idea.  When he got home and opened the door, he was half expecting to be tackled by Dean and was somewhat surprised when he wasn’t.  He shut the door and stepped into the living room, wondering if maybe Dean had gone out.  But then he saw Dean curled up on the couch, partly covered with his robe and face buried in one of Castiel’s shirts.

Castiel walked over to the couch, pausing before carding his fingers through Dean’s hair, still soft from last night.  Dean woke up immediately to the touch and sat up, grabbing Castiel’s shirt and pulling him down.  Castiel went down easily, moving himself into Dean’s embrace.

“This is a little more like what I expected,” Castiel smiled.

Dean huffed in false annoyance against his neck and hugged him tighter for a minute before letting him go.

“Did you sleep all day?” Castiel smirked.

“No,” Dean bit, “Only few minutes.  Out with Sam.”

“Out with him like being a normal person…?” Castiel asked slowly, he didn’t know how to phrase the question, “Or like being you?”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him and fixed him with a look of mild disbelief.  Castiel shrugged and made a vague motion with his hands, nodding once towards the town and once towards the hill in his backyard.  Dean puffed a short laugh and nodded towards the hill.

“What’d you do?”

“Went for run.  Huh-ng out,” Dean mused.

All Castiel could think was either two wolves walking around or sitting and doing nothing.  That couldn’t have been the case.  The belated second thought of them as humans and doing more or less the same seemed just as unlikely.

“Sam start-ed fight,” Dean commented.

“Why?”

He couldn’t imagine the two of them fighting, but granted he didn’t know their relationship very well.

“Play-fight,” Dean clarified, “Um…wreh-stle.  Because was— tee-zing.”

“About what?”

“…You,” Dean admitted sheepishly.

Castiel felt the faint rosy tint creep on to his face.

“Revenge for teasing about Jess,” Dean added.

“Did you win?”

Dean fixed him with a look that said it wasn’t even a contest and grinned at him.  Castiel sighed, shaking his head and getting up.  He went to the kitchen to make something for dinner, knowing Dean was more than likely hungry.  Dean followed him and watched for a minute to see what Castiel was making.  Instead of hovering, Dean actually helped him.  It made making dinner more interesting, partly because Castiel had to keep on him about not eating ingredients as they went and partly because had to guess what certain things were.  It was mostly with spices and seasonings, he couldn’t read what their labels said and would have to guess by smell if it was right; by appearance if it was something he’d never smelled before.  He even asked why Castiel had a little jar of pine needles.

It was rosemary.

The whole process then turned into a small cooking lesson until dinner was done.  Like always, Dean inhaled his food before Castiel was even halfway done.  He went back to the cabinets and started going through all the spices and seasonings he hadn’t looked at.  There weren’t too many more he didn’t know, it was usually their ground up appearance that threw him off. 

Once Castiel finished his dinner, the impromptu cooking lesson resumed.  Since they were going through everything anyway, he figured they may as well make something for tomorrow.  He still had to be at work all day, but it’d be something Dean could eat while he was gone if he didn’t feel like hunting.  Or he could reheat it when he got home.

As they carried on, Castiel noticed Dean got a little more quiet and thoughtful.  He was about to ask what was wrong when he distantly remembered that Mary had taught Dean how to cook.  Castiel stalled, wondering if he was now crossing some kind of line.  But the way Dean looked at him when he did was almost pleading to continue.  So he kept going, watching the emotions flitting through Dean’s eyes. 

By the time they were done, they’d made enough food to feed a family twice.  Dean was still quiet and thoughtful and it showed by the way he touched Castiel when they went to bed.  It was like Dean thought he was made of glass and was afraid to break him, or thought that he wasn’t real.  Castiel didn’t say anything about it, he just leaned into the touches and burrowed against Dean to show him it was alright.  Dean held him more tightly that night with his face in the crook of his neck.  That was somewhat new, Dean had never done that as a human.  It was always Castiel’s face against Dean’s neck.  Castiel ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, idly playing with the little tufts that stuck up until Dean fell asleep and his own eyes were too heavy to stay awake.

The next morning, Dean was back to normal.  He pouted like a child when Castiel had to leave for work and suggested that he just be late again.  Castiel rolled his eyes at him and promised when he’d be home.  He heard an exasperated groan from Dean as he left the house and smirked. 

For the next two days, the Roadhouse wasn’t very busy.  Castiel had hoped it would pick up, being close to New Year’s, but it didn’t.  Both days he was allowed to leave early because of the lack of business.  It was sort of a catch-22; he got to go home and spend more time with Dean like he wanted, but at the same time, he wasn’t getting as much as he should’ve been.

Thankfully, the day before New Year’s Eve, the Roadhouse was busy enough that the day didn’t feel like it was dragging on forever.  He had a few minutes of down time here and there, but he filled that with either restocking a few bottles or just talking with Ash and Jo.  His experience in talking with the bar patrons was almost always sob stories or bragging and he didn’t particularly feel like listening to either of those today.

Castiel heard a barstool screech particularly loud against the floor; something people only did when they wanted the bartender’s attention without saying anything.  He groaned internally and turned around to greet them, but immediately froze up.

“Well, hey.  Didn’t know you worked here,” Azazel said.

Castiel swallowed.  He’d gotten a bad feeling from him before, but now it was even worse.

“Did ya find your dog?” Azazel grinned.

“Uh, yes.  I did.  Is there something you want?” Castiel forced, “-ed?  Wanted to order?”

“Surprise me,” Azazel hummed.

Castiel nodded and decided to pick from the strongest liquors they had. 

“What kinda dog d’ya got?” Azazel asked.

“German shepherd,” Castiel snipped.

“Oh, there’s a good dog to have around.”

Castiel nodded again, setting Azazel’s drink in front of him.  It was a potent mix of absinthe, one-hundred fifty one proof spiced rum and a shot of Everclear.  There was nothing else in it.  He was half hoping if he made something too strong or terrible tasting, Azazel would leave.  Azazel eyed the drink cautiously, the strong smell sending up warning flags.  He lifted the glass, tipping it towards Castiel in a ‘cheers’ fashion before taking a deep drink of it. 

Almost immediately, Azazel slammed the glass down with a scrunched up face and sharp intake of breath.  Castiel clenched his jaw to hide the smug grin.

“Boy, you sure know how to knock a guy off his feet!” Azazel laughed, “Might just have to have to make a drink for me everytime…?”

“Jimmy,” Castiel replied, cursing his luck.

“’Jimmy’?” Azazel repeated, “Sure don’t look like one.”

“It’s James, but my friends have _annoying_ taken to calling me Jimmy.”

“Uh-huh…” Azazel hummed, “So your dog, how old is he?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“I never said what gender,” Castiel said.

“My default, sorry,” Azazel quirked, “Baby boy or a baby girl?”

“Male, yes….and I don’t know how old he is,” Castiel replied.

It was the truth, he didn’t know Dean’s exact age; he just had a guess of age range.

“Where’d ya get him?”

“He was a stray.  Why are you so interested?” Castiel clipped.

“Just makin’ conversation,” Azazel held his hands up in defense, “And I happen to like dogs.”

“Perhaps you should look into the AKC,” Castiel suggested.

He turned and went to busy himself with literally anything he could while making a pointed effort not to look at Azazel.  When he ran out of things to do at the bar, he made his way back to the kitchen and planned to stay there until Azazel left.  But after a few minutes of hiding, Ellen came and found him, telling him to go back because he’d left patrons hanging.  He thought about telling her about Azazel, but kept his mouth shut.  He could handle problems on his own.

And he did so by dragging his feet back to the bar.  He poked his head around the corner and was relieved to see Azazel dropping money on the bar and getting up to leave.

“Good, stay gone,” Castiel muttered.

Castiel watched him go and moved to look out one of the windows, noting what Azazel drove so he might be able to better avoid him in the future.  Unfortunately, it looked like Azazel was getting a ride from someone.  There was a tick in the back of Castiel’s mind that said he didn’t want anything to do with the driver either.  It was too far away to see a license plate, not to mention it was now dark outside and the headlights had just come on.  But, as it left, Castiel could at least get a description of what it looked like.  It was a dirty utility truck with canopy over the back and all of the vehicles windows were tinted.  He made a mental note of it and carried on with his shift.

Just before leaving, Ellen reminded him of the New Year’s party tomorrow night.  Simultaneously, Castiel hoped Azazel wouldn’t be back for the party and remembered he hadn’t said anything about the party to Dean yet.  There was a moment of conflict in his mind, that Azazel was taking too much of a strange interest in his ‘dog’ and if there was the chance of them being in the same place…  Maybe he shouldn’t say anything to Dean about the party.

By the time Castiel had gotten home, he’d decided he just wouldn’t say anything.  Once again, he was somewhat surprised to not be tackled at the door.  Even more surprised when he smelled something good coming from the kitchen.  He walked in to find Dean trying to clean a mountain of dirty dishes while a fresh salmon dinner sat on the table.  Castiel turned his attention from the dinner to Dean and cleared his throat to announce his presence.  Dean glanced over his shoulder and immediately gave up on the dishes.

“What’s this?” Castiel asked.

“Dinner,” Dean pointed out.

“I can see that,” Castiel deadpanned, “I mean…why?”

“Was bored,” Dean shrugged, “Always make for me.  Wanted to do same.”

Castiel moved over to the table and sat down, joined by Dean.  The food was a little messily put together, but that didn’t bother Castiel in the slightest.  He cut off a bit with a fork and went to take a bite with Dean watching him like an excited child.  He would’ve never guessed that Dean could make something that tasted this amazing when just the other night he thought rosemary was pine needle.  It tasted even better than the salmon dinner, their first dinner, Castiel had made a while back.

“How the hell did you make this?” Castiel murmured.

“Few tries,” Dean admitted, “Just guess.”

“You _guessed_ in this?”

Dean nodded.

“Oh my god.”

Castiel didn’t press it any further, he didn’t care.  He had what was probably the best salmon dinner he’d ever had in his life.  The few tries did explain all the dishes though.  Dean had served him more than he usually ate, of course because Dean was insistent that Castiel ate more, but Castiel did eat all of it.  He even hoped there was extra, but with Dean, the only extra there ever was was what Castiel hadn’t eaten of his own serving.  Dean just looked so proud of himself that Castiel loved it so much.

After he finished, Dean took his plate and resumed with the dishes.  Castiel shooed him to the side to take over and when Dean objected, he pointed out that since Dean had made dinner, it was only fair.  Dean came back with saying that wasn’t how they normally did.  If anything, both of them did the dishes.  He refused to let Castiel do them all and Castiel had no choice but to share the work.  For the compromise, Castiel occasionally flicked water at Dean.

He took it as a challenge and splashed more water at Castiel.  There was a tense moment before both of them broke out into splashing and flicking water at each other, dishes completely forgotten.  Dean was a little more bent on winning than Castiel was and scooped a handful of water from the sink to fling at him.  That had been the winning move, as there happened to be wet food in that handful.  The feeling of the now slimy food sliding down Castiel’s skin sent shivers down his spine and a short spasm to get it off.  He swiped it off and threw it back at the sink, suddenly feeling very dirty and in need of a harsh scrubbing.  Wet food was about one of the most disgusting things to feel, in Castiel’s opinion.

He made some remark about that too as he made for the bathroom.  He stripped off his damp shirt, followed by the rest of his clothes and got into the shower.  He could distantly hear Dean quickly finishing the dishes and a moment of quiet told him Dean was probably coming in.  About two seconds later, Dean was poking his head in the shower with an apologetic look.

“I don’t think you play fair,” Castiel stated.

Dean dropped his gaze and opened his mouth to apologize, only to be met with another flick of water in his face.  He stared at Castiel for a minute before getting in the shower with him.  He immediately started flicking water back at Castiel until he had him backed up in the corner and framed him with both his arms.  Castiel felt his heart give a hard beat and felt the blood already beginning to slowly flow down.

“See, you don’t play fair,” Castiel mock-pouted.

“Sorry,” Dean replied.

There was hardly a note of sincerity.

“Are you?”

Dean nodded and pressed his lips to Castiel’s neck.  If this was going to be Dean’s idea of an apology, Castiel was alright with that.  Dean kept mouthing and kissing along Castiel’s neck, grinding against him every so often.  As much as Castiel enjoyed it, if Dean didn’t move on, he was going to get impatient.  Picking up on that, Dean dropped his hands to Castiel’s thighs and lifted both his legs up and pinned him against the wall.  Castiel twisted his fingers in Dean’s wet hair as his mouth dropped a little lower and he pressed his body flush against him.  His grinding developed a more consistent and harder rhythm until he was thrusting up against Castiel.

The slide of Dean’s cock against his was enough to have Castiel panting in just a couple minutes.  Dean pressed against him harder, moving with more desperation.  He wanted to be in Castiel so badly, but he’d picked up the hint that Castiel didn’t want that just yet.  He gave a growl of frustration and brought Castiel to the shower floor.  Laying down, it was more cramped.  But it let Dean thrust harder against Castiel, panting in his ear until Castiel was moaning loudly and wrapping his legs around him tightly.

Castiel moved his hands from Dean’s hair to cup his face and bring him closer for a deep and air depriving kiss.  Castiel was breathing harder when he let go, moaning every exhale and gasping for every breath.  He came with a sharp cry, digging his fingers into Dean’s skin.  Dean grunted and ground harder.  Castiel let go with one hand, unsure if he could let go with both, and reached down between them.  He wrapped his fingers around Dean’s cock, giving something for him to thrust into.  There was an appreciative growl above him as Dean moved against his hand more than his hips.

Castiel felt the base of Dean’s cock started swelling and the idea of it had heat pooling in Castiel’s stomach again.  Dean thrust up particularly hard, stilling were Castiel had his fingers just below the knot and came over Castiel’s stomach.  Castiel imagined Dean being locked inside him, all the cum spilling over his stomach being pumped into him and plugged up from Dean’s knot.  Again, the thought of that was enough to wretch another cry and orgasm from him.

Dean lowered himself to his elbows, breathing hard for a moment before Castiel’s hand fell away from his cock.  The loss of contact caused another spurt to spill onto Castiel with a wince, adding more the pool of cum on his stomach that was shielded from the shower spray by Dean.  Dean nuzzled the side of his face and moved out of the way of the water, letting it clean him off.  Castiel was glad they were in the shower this time.

Once he was clean again, Dean shut off the water and reached out for the towel.  Castiel let Dean dry him off and dry himself.  He only made a weak comment of protest when Dean picked him up to carry him back to his room.  He could walk on his own, he may have been a little shaky, but he could do it.  Still, being carried was nice.

Dean threw back the covers and laid him down, settling beside him and covering them up.  Dean pressed flush against Castiel’s back and, this time, he was the one to trace patterns over Castiel’s skin.  Castiel hummed at the touch, loving the goosebumps it sent over his still warm skin.  They’d only had sex twice now, but this right here, this afterglow was the state Castiel wanted to stay in.  He didn’t want to do anything else, just enjoy it.  But the thought of work tomorrow dashed across his mind and put a damper on it.

“I don’t want to work tomorrow,” Castiel mumbled absently.

“Not want you too,” Dean murmured.

“It’s gonna be busy,” Castiel whined.

“Sam said…there is a— party…at Roadhouse?” Dean asked slowly.

Of course, Sam would know and Dean had probably spent the day with him again.  Ellen had probably been going around telling patrons and either Sam or Jess, maybe both, had been there when Castiel didn’t know.

“For New Year’s, yes,” Castiel replied, “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to go.  I’d be working the whole time.”

“Will be able to…hang out?”

“Not you and Sam’s kind of hanging out,” Castiel teased.

He felt Dean scowl and give him a light push.

“It depends how busy it is,” Castiel added truthfully.

“Can come anyway?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Castiel yawned.

Dean kissed the back of his neck and smiled against his skin.  Not a single shred of concern from earlier crossed his mind before falling asleep.

And it wasn’t until half way through his shift the next day that the worry came back.  He kept spacing out in thought, almost dropping things and fidgeting.  Ellen and Ash ignored it for the most part, unless he almost dropped something fragile.  Jo figured it was a sort ‘nervous about introducing the boyfriend’ kind of thing and just giggled quietly.  The later it got, the more business picked up.  By about nine o’clock, they were busier than Castiel had ever seen.  But it looked like they weren’t going to get many more people than that.  Castiel kept an eye for both Azazel and Dean, who’d said he would be coming with Sam and Jess.

Drinks were in much higher demand than food was, so Jo was able to leaving waiting tables to Ash while she helped Castiel with the bar.  She ran a few drinks to different tables for him, but stayed there for the most part.  In the middle of wiping down a mess a drunk patron had spilled over the bar, she looked up and stopped.  She nudged Castiel with her elbow and an excited grin.

“Is that him?” Jo grinned.

Castiel followed where she was looking.  It took a second for him to recognize Dean in clothes, it was only the second time he’d seen Dean wearing them.  But she was looking right at him as he walked in behind Sam and Jess.

“Yes,” Castiel replied.

“I think you kinda undersold him,” Jo grinned, “He’s way better looking.”

Castiel dismissed that, noticing that Dean already looked uncomfortable around the rowdy crowd and unfamiliar setting.  He kept close to Sam until Castiel waved his hand to get his attention, then broke away from Sam and went straight to the bar.

“And those bowlegs are a bonus, if you ask me,” Jo added with a grin.

Castiel scowled at her from the corner of his eye.

“Hey, I’m just sayin’,” Jo laughed.

She stayed next to him, almost dancing in place, wanting to actually meet Dean.  He hardly took notice of her, being focused on Castiel at that moment.  He sat in a seat two away from the nearest patron and took a deep breath, trying to put on a smile that betrayed his discomfort.

“You don’t have to pretend,” Castiel commented light.

“Not.  Happy to be here,” Dean replied.

Castiel quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Get to see you,” Dean added.

“Aww, isn’t that sweet,” Jo teased.

Dean’s smile faltered a second, but quickly came back.

“Dean, this is Jo,” Castiel introduced, “For some reason, she wanted to meet you.”

“I just wanted to know who made Mr. Stoic and kinda grumpy so happy the other day,” Jo defended, “It’s nice to meet you.”

She held out her hand for him to shake and he did so kind of awkwardly, muttering that it was nice to meet her too.  She didn’t hover for more than a second before going and finding something to do to leave them alone.

“Is busy?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Castiel sighed, “But I don’t think it’ll get any worse.”

Dean hummed.

“People’ll probably be drunk enough in the next hour or so, before midnight,” Castiel said.

Dean perked up, he wouldn’t have to wait as long as he’d clearly feared.

“Which means, I’ll have time for a midnight kiss,” Castiel taunted.

Dean grinned and leaned forward, intent on taking one now.

“ _Midnight_ ,” Castiel emphasized with a laugh.

He sat back with a dramatic huff, earning another laugh.  Dean cracked a half smile at that and glanced around the Roadhouse for Sam and Jess.

“You can go sit with them, I’ll come over every couple minutes,” Castiel promised.

Dean was both reluctant and relieved to go sit with Sam and Jess.  As soon as he did, Jo popped up beside him.  Before she could make any comment, he told her they were switching; he’d be the one to get to run drinks out when they were ordered and she would stay.  She gawked and him and muttered ‘rude’ under her breath, but flashed a grin to show she was kidding.  She really didn’t mind it.  With every drink that went out, Castiel made it a point to go where Dean was sitting, even if it was on the other side of the restaurant.  Dean was happy everytime he did, Jessica thought it was cute and Sam teased him lightly for it everytime.  Just like a younger brother would be expected to.  And Dean would react in the same way one would expect.

Just like Castiel had predicted, drink orders slowed down around eleven, since everyone was fairly drunk at this point.  Food orders had slowed down about a half hour before that.  Jo, Ash and Castiel made sure things were cleaned up for the most part before going to hang out with whoever they wanted.  They’d look around to make sure there was no one who needed anything often enough that no one would call for Ellen.

“Finally get a real break, huh?” Sam asked.

“Unless someone needs something,” Castiel replied.

“Just ignore them,” Jessica smirked.

He sat down beside Dean, who crowded up next to him and leaned against him lightly.  Dean nodded eagerly in favor of that idea.  He couldn’t stand being apart from Castiel in this setting, Sam and Jess were honestly probably the only reason he tolerated the separation instead of leaving.

“I think I will,” Castiel decided.

“Hey, you’d be doing their livers a favor,” Sam pointed out.

Castiel snorted and shook his head.  He thought about using that excuse in case he got in trouble, but he wasn’t sure if Ellen would think it was as funny or not.  Maybe if only one person went to Ellen, instead of a few, she would. 

Sam and Jessica carried on their own conversation while Dean kept his attention fixated on Castiel.  He fidgeted with Castiel’s fingers, sometimes tracing over them, until Castiel playfully batted back at him.  It wasn’t until Sam had mentioned something about his and Dean’s wrestling the other day that Dean jumped in on the conversation.  Sam has tried to discredit him and he wasn’t going to take it.  They bickered back and forth, much to Castiel and Jessica’s amusement, until Jessica pointed out that the countdown to midnight had started.

Anyone in the Roadhouse who had enough sobriety left in them started counting down out loud.  Dean had flinched slightly at the volume, being unprepared for it, but it didn’t seem to bother him beyond that.  He knew what he was getting at the end of the countdown. 

As soon as the restaurant hit one and erupted into cheers, Dean grabbed Castiel’s face and kissed him fiercely.  Castiel could feel the anxiousness melt through the contact and until it boiled down to just passion. 

It felt like he’d gone from sitting in the Roadhouse with Dean back to just the two of them in the cave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry it took just over a month to update this ;A; but hey you got two smut scenes for your patience, right? more plot ~~and porn~~ is on the way. feel free to comment any kinks you'd like to see  
>  the name of the chapter...i just picked a song title off the soundtrack i was listening to lol
> 
> questions about updates can be directed to [my tumblr](http://leo-arcana.tumblr.com)


	15. Start of a New Year

“Hey, uh, you guys mind dialing it down a bit?”

The noise of the Roadhouse filled Castiel’s ears again, reminding him they were in a public place.  He sheepishly pulled back, clearing his throat and pretending he hadn’t been having a small fantasy.  Dean furrowed his eyebrows at him before picking up on the social cue.  Rather than act nonchalant, Dean jumped to teasing Sam for having seen him act just the same or sometimes a little worse; mostly cases of no warning.  That sparked up another banter between the two of them, easing any embarrassment Castiel was feeling.

The night carried on that way for a couple more hours until everyone in the bar started getting too tired to stay awake anymore.  Sam and Jessica got up to leave, thought unfortunately Castiel had to wait until the Roadhouse was empty; he was, technically, still working.  They said their goodbyes and left, Dean staying behind and waiting patiently.  Once the last patron was gone, Castiel was ready to go home and go to bed.  He thought about asking Dean to drive them home, but suddenly wondered if Dean even knew how to drive.  He wasn’t even going to ask.  Castiel just kept a window cracked open as he drove, letting the brisk air keep him awake.

By the time they got home, Castiel was contemplating just sleeping in the truck.  If it was summertime, he might’ve.  But this time of year would mean freezing all night long.  Dean got out first and went around to the other side, pulling Castiel’s door open and holding his arms out for him.  Castiel gladly fell into them, letting Dean shift him into a better position to carry him into the house.  He had just enough energy left to shed his heavier clothes once they made it to his room, but he kept his shirt, pants and socks on to sleep in.  Dean undressed all the way, of course, feeling more comfortable without the clothing.  Both of them curled up under the blankets; Castiel enjoying Dean’s warmth and Dean enjoying his closeness after being in an unfamiliar setting with so many strangers.

 

Castiel had the weekend off and spent it the way weekends should be spent; doing nothing.  Well, nothing productive.  They slept in, had late breakfasts, then Dean would lead him out on some short adventure somewhere.  They never ventured far, by Dean’s definition, Castiel couldn’t stand the cold long enough.  But seeing all the snow covered land and forest was still something he loved.  Back home, he’d never get to see this much snow unless he went to the mountains.

He wasn’t excited to go back to work, not that he ever was.  But he was glad the Roadhouse was maintaining the same level of business it had for New Year’s.  A few days passed with little interest, but then Castiel started to feel like something was off at work.  He kept looking around for anything broken, out of place or missing.  Some days it bothered him more than others.  It wasn’t until a week had passed that he found out what was wrong.

Sitting off in the corner, in a spot hard to notice from the bar, was Azazel.  Anger boiled up inside Castiel, mostly directed at Azazel, but partially at himself for not noticing sooner.  He didn’t talk to Castiel, as a matter of fact, he hardly acknowledged Castiel.  It was like he was busy looking for something.  He’d stay for a couple hours at a time, or stay a short while and come back later for another short while.  Whatever he was wanting or hoping for, he wasn’t getting.

Castiel went to work, fully expecting to see Azazel there.  But he didn’t show up that day.  Castiel was both relieved and suspicious at that.  He kept checking around to make sure he wasn’t hidden in some other spot; he wasn’t.  Castiel breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.  He felt more at ease when looked up to see Jessica and a friend coming in.  He talked to her for a brief moment, just small talk, and got the drinks they ordered.

After that, Castiel didn’t talk to Jessica much, he didn’t want to interrupt her and her friend.  Plus, the Roadhouse was still getting enough business to keep Castiel from being too bored.  There was maybe a minute or two at most in between drink orders.  Honestly, this felt like a perfect pace and he hoped it would last for a while.  He did start to notice that a number of drinks were going to Jessica and her friend.  He still didn’t talk much to them, but he did keep a closer eye on them.

After a few hours, now towards the end of his shift, the two girls were decidedly drunk.  They ordered another drink, but Castiel just stared back at them.  Jessica pleaded with him, trying to give him puppy dog eyes, but breaking down into little giggles.  Castiel shook his head, grabbing two glasses.  The two girls praised and thanked him when handed them the clear liquid, thinking it was vodka.  Castiel dipped his head to hide a smile; it was water.  But neither one of them seemed to notice that.

“Jessica, do you have a ride home?” Castiel asked.

“Well, Ruby _was_ supposed to be,” Jessica laughed, “Guess that went out the window.”

“I can take you home,” Castiel offered.

“Nooo, no, no.  You don’t have to do that,” Jessica shook her head.

“I don’t mind.  It’s either that or I call you a cab.”

“Ugh, no.  I don’t like taxi drivers,” Jessica whined.

“What about me?” Ruby chipped in.

“I could take you home as well.”

“That’d be awesome,” Ruby smiled.

Ruby turned in her seat and hoped, swiftly losing her balance.  She grabbed the bar with one hand and Jessica with the other, nearly pulling her down.  Castiel heard her mumbling something about not having been drunk in a while as he left the bar to grab his jacket and keys.  When he came back, both girls were waiting for him by the door on unsteady feet.  They followed him outside, the slushy ground making the short walk three times more difficult.  Jessica and Ruby both used Castiel for balance as they moved forward at an almost annoyingly slow pace.  He helped them both up in the truck, making sure a limb wasn’t hanging out when he shut the door.  He didn’t particularly feel like waiting for them to figure out their seatbelts either.  He just clicked them for them as well, much to their protest.

It took a while to get Ruby home, she had a hard time figuring out where she was and which way to go a couple times.  But Castiel was relieved once he got her home.  Now he just had to find where Jessica lived.  She didn’t have as difficult of a time, she had started to sober up.  She was also getting a little quieter, which he didn’t complain about.  He got her home in less than half the time it’d taken to get Ruby home.  Castile helped her out and practically carried from the truck up the stairs to her and Sam’s apartment. 

Jessica fumbled her keys, nearly dropping them.  Castiel just knocked on the door, making her whine at the ‘loud’ noise.  A second later, Sam opened the door.

“Hey, I’ve been trying to call you,” Sam said.

“I think my phone’s dead,” Jessica slurred.

He took her from Castiel and led her inside, nodding his head for Castiel to come in.  Sam sat her down on the couch and went to the kitchen to get water for her.  Castiel hesitated a moment before deciding to follow him.

“Thanks for bringing her home,” Sam said, “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” Castiel shrugged, “I can let Ellen know not to have her car towed until you can get it later.”

“Yeah, that’d also be appreciated,” Sam smirked, “She hates having to go get it.  Impounding would just make that worse.”

“It doesn’t seem like it’d be that bad…”

“Well…I don’t have a car.  Or license.”

“You don’t?”

“Never needed them.”

Now that Castiel thought about it, that made perfect sense.

“I still don’t, but I’m working on the license part.  Things are a lot easier if you have an ID, things like getting a job.”

“Don’t you need other identification?  Birth certificates, social security…?”

“Yeah… Like I said, I’m working on it,” Sam grinned.

Castiel didn’t ask anything else on the matter, the less he knew was probably better.  Sam went back to the living room and sat Jessica back up, since she’d layed down at some point, and gave her the water.  Castiel checked the time on his phone and realized it had taken much longer than he’d thought to get the two girls home.  Sam noticed him checking the time and the look of dread on his face at the thought of the drive home.

“Y’know, you can stay the night if you want,” Sam suggested, “It’s the least I can do for you bringing her home.”

“I’d like to, but I’m sure Dean is pacing holes into my floor at this point.”

“He was here not too long ago, I can always call him back over.”

“Um, s-sure,” Castiel replied awkwardly.

Sam got up and went outside through the front door.  For a brief moment, Castiel wondered what he was doing, but answered his own question just before a howl pierced through the night.  Castiel went over the sliding glass door and pulled it open just enough to hear outside.  He listened closely and heard an answering howl in the distance.  He couldn’t judge distance by sound, but he was fairly sure that Dean wasn’t at his house yet.  He shut the door just as Sam came back inside, going back over to Jessica.

“He’s on his way back.  You, uh, probably heard that though.”

Castiel nodded.

“I’m gonna take Jess to bed.  Feel free to sleep wherever,” Sam said, “If you need anything, just ask.  Or Dean can find it.”

“Alright, thank you.”

He got Jessica back on her feet and held her steady as she walked back to their room.  Castiel looked around the living room, wondering where he’d sleep.  He pulled his jacket off and kicked his shoes off, putting them by the front door.  He picked a blanket up off the couch and curled up with it, idly wondering how long it would take Dean to get there. 

Castiel drifted in and out of sleep a few times, but a chilly breeze sweeping through the apartment woke him up.  He sat up and saw Dean paused halfway to the couch.  Dean smiled apologetically, having not meant to wake him up if he’d been sleeping.  He crept over to the couch, crawling over Castiel and wedging himself in between Castiel and the back of the couch.  Castiel huffed and tried to fight for his space back, only to be manhandled into laying on top of Dean.  He settled down with a light scowl on his face, deciding to make an extra number of movements to straighten his blanket again as payback.

“How come here?” Dean whispered.

“Jessica and her friend were too drunk to drive,” Castiel answered, “Sam offered to let me stay here since it was late.”

Dean hummed and let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes and relaxing.  Dean only ever drifted off that quickly if he’d been out all day, usually hunting.  Which meant there was now more than likely fresh meat and possibly some kind of little trophy waiting for Castiel at home.  Castiel quirked his lips and nuzzled his head against Dean’s neck, letting himself fall asleep again.

               

In the morning, Castiel was the first one awake.  He wasn’t sure when Sam usually woke up, but he knew Dean liked to sleep in.  And that Jessica wouldn’t be getting up at all in the morning, if she could help it. 

Castiel carefully got off Dean, trying not to wake him, otherwise he’d end up held down for a little while longer.  He dropped the blanket haphazardly back over Dean and just then realized he was wearing clothes.  Castiel hadn’t thought about it last night, but he couldn’t remember if Dean had come in wearing them.  He wracked his brain for a second before deciding it was too early to try and remember things that weren’t really important.

Castiel walked quietly to the kitchen to get something to drink.  He wasn’t comfortable with just making himself breakfast there.  There were a number of things to pick from in the fridge, more choices than Castiel ever had in his own fridge.  He went with a small bottle of orange juice sitting near the front and leaned against the counter to drink it.  He looked around their kitchen as he did, noting that it had more of homey feeling than his did.

Castiel glanced at the calendar off to the side of the kitchen window, squinting his eyes at the dozens of little notes written on it.  Most of them appeared to be Jessica’s handwriting, but there were a few he could tell were Sam’s.  Out of curiosity, he stepped closer to read the scribbles.  It looked like they were just what times each of them worked, if there was any place they had to be, when bills were due… But then he noticed something drawn on a date next week.  He spent more time trying to figure out what the ‘drawing’ was supposed to be than he should’ve.  He didn’t figure it out until he read the line above it: _Jess’ Birthday!_

Castiel cocked his head to one side, guessing the drawing was supposed to be a cake.  He stared at it a moment longer, wondering if someone had drawn over it in an attempt to change it.

“Nice artwork, huh?”

Castiel perked up and turned around.  Sam stifled a yawn as he stretched before coming over.

“Jess drew the cake,” Sam sighed, “But Dean went over it one day when he was bored.  He does that every year now.”

“Why?”

“They have the same birthdays,” Sam replied simply.

Castiel looked at the calendar again, then back at Sam.

“It’s next week,” Castiel stated.

Sam nodded.

“Dean hasn’t said anything…”

Castiel frowned and looked over at the couch.  All he could see of Dean was one foot hanging off the arm of the couch.

“He doesn’t really like celebrating, not sure why,” Sam shrugged, “He’s happy enough just getting pie.”

If Castiel was going to do anything, it would be something more special than pie.  Although, he would admittedly end up making pecan pie for Dean.  Sam tried giving him a few ideas, but none of them sounded particularly appealing to Castiel.  He told Castiel what Dean liked that Castiel didn’t already know about; which wasn’t much.  Dean had a very short list of things he liked.  Sam blamed it on his lack of exposure to society.  Castiel gave a short snort, but really, Sam wasn’t wrong.  He tried a few more suggestions, now trying to guess what else Dean might like.  But still, nothing really sounded like a good idea.  Sam shrugged with a sigh, saying if he thought of anything else, he’d tell Castiel.  But for now, he was going to go take a shower and get ready for work.

Castiel needed to do the same.  He had enough time to go back home and shower and get dressed before work.

  “Oh, hey, let me give you my cell number in case— this happens again,” Sam said.

Castiel typed Sam’s number into his phone, glad to have a way to contact him and possibly Jessica now.  Sam turned and went down the hall while Castiel walked around the couch, grabbing Dean’s ankle and shaking his leg.  Dean made a face and pulled his leg back.  Castiel shook his head and moved around to grab his shoulder.  Dean made a noise of weak protest, grabbing Castiel’s arm and pulling him down on top of him.

“Dean, I do have to go to work.”

“Work too much,” Dean complained.

“Well, as nice as it would be to do nothing,” Castiel teased.

Dean peeked one eye open at him with tired annoyance.  Castiel just gave him an innocent little smile.  Dean rolled his eyes and gave Castiel a tight squeeze before pushing him up.  Castiel grabbed his jacket and pulled on his shoes while Dean purposefully took his time getting up; now it was Castiel’s turn to roll his eyes.  Dean didn’t bother with a jacket or shoes, of course.  He just walked right past Castiel to the front door and gave him a look like he was the one taking too long now.  Castiel huffed and got up, giving Dean a mock glare as he opened the door.

“Bye, Sammy!” Dean called.

Castiel heard a muffled response before the door shut behind them.  Castiel hugged his jacket tighter as the morning wind swept by, feeling slightly envious of Dean.  Until Dean stepped in puddle of slush; that sent chills throughout Castiel’s body.  Dean just took a second to shake most of it off and kept going.  But when they got in the truck, Castiel saw him tuck his feet up to warm up again.  Castiel suppressed a little smile at that. 

As soon as they were home, Dean went straight to Castiel’s room and laid down.  He didn’t fall asleep, but he didn’t feel like doing much either.  It was still sort of early for Dean.  Castiel got cleaned up and changed for work, going back to his room to say goodbye.  He let Dean pulled him down for hug and tired peck on the lips before leaving.

 The New Year’s party had done a good job of boosting business.  But it didn’t last and tapered off; now it was almost back to its normal pace.  Which meant Castiel was bored once again.  While everyone was happy with their drinks and food, he decided to try and think of a birthday present for Dean.  After nearly an hour, he still had nothing.  He kept trying to think of other things as he served the couple patrons that came in, but it wasn’t until one particular person came in that he suddenly had a stroke of genius.

“Hey, Bobby—”

He stared at Castiel for a moment until he recognized him.

“Still havin’ a problem with the wolf?” Bobby asked.

He took a seat at the bar, waving his hand for a drink.  He didn’t say what he wanted, either he trusted Castiel to make the right choice or he didn’t care.  Bobby struck Castiel as a whiskey drinker and moved to get the drink for him.

“Um, n-no.  It’s not a problem anymore,” Castiel replied.

“D’ya catch him?”

“No.”

Castiel set the glass in front of Bobby.

“Is he dead?”

“No.”

“Then, what?  He just left?”

“More or less,” Castiel shrugged, “But I wanted to ask you something.”

“Damn dog is a strange one,” Bobby took a drink, “Go ahead, shoot.”

“Do you still have that Impala?”

“’Course.  Hardly sold a damn thing since I quit salvaging.”

“Would you— would you be willing to let it go?” Castiel asked, absently fidgeting with a rag.

Bobby eyed him for a second.

“Not for free, if that’s what you’re hopin’.”

Castiel let out a breath and dropped the rag.  Truthfully, there was a small part of him that had been hoping.  It was just sitting in a, more or less, abandoned scrapyard and Bobby paid it no attention unless Dean had been snooping around it.  But he also couldn’t say he was surprised Bobby wouldn’t let it go for free.

“How much would you sell it for?” Castiel asked cautiously.

“Well, average value for her runs about nine-grand—”

Castiel clenched his jaw, forgetting to breathe for a second.

“But she ain’t goin’ anywhere and no one ever showed much interest,” Bobby mused, “I’d sell her for four and half.”

Half the average value.  It wasn’t a bad deal, considering the Impala needed very little work.  But it was still more than Castiel had to spare.  He tried to contain his sigh and disappointment, resigning to trying to think of another birthday present.  Even though he already knew he’d never have an idea as great as that.

“And of course I’d be willing to work out some kinda finance deal,” Bobby spoke, “If someone wanted.”

“Really?”

“Sure, why the hell not?” Bobby shrugged.

Castiel bit his lip to stop himself from grinning.

“But, just like everything else in the scrapyard, it ain’t goin’ anywhere til it’s paid for,” Bobby stated.

Castiel’s excitement faltered.

“Just the way I used to run the scrapyard, nothin’ personal.”

Castiel had hoped Bobby would have enough trust in him to let him take the Impala before it was paid for.  He couldn’t blame him for it, but he was still deeply annoyed.  It meant he wouldn’t have it anywhere even close to Dean’s birthday.  He thought about arguing that dealerships let people take cars before paying them off, but the look on Bobby’s said to not even try it. 

Castiel agreed to it, trying to come up with a way to pay it off faster and have it sooner.  His best thought plan wouldn’t have him getting it any sooner than late spring; unless the Roadhouse picked up a significant amount of business in a short time frame.  That wasn’t exactly likely to happen.

“But, I’ll tell ya what.  Since she doesn’t need much work, I’ll fix her up in the meantime,” Bobby offered.

That helped to ease some of Castiel’s annoyance.  It would at least be fully functional by the time he paid for it.

“Thank you, I, uh—“ Castiel paused, hearing a barstool screech, “I appreciate it.”

Bobby dipped his head in acknowledgement as Castiel spun on his heels to tend to the other patron.  He really hated when people screeched stools against the floor.  Castiel took a single step and stopped in his tracks, seeing Azazel settling onto the stool.  He gave Castiel a little smirk and wave, propping himself against the bar to wait patiently for him.

Castiel gritted his teeth and walked over to him, intent on talking to him or being near him as little as possible.  He didn’t even bother asking what Azazel wanted, though that didn’t seem to faze him.  He asked for the same drink Castiel had given him last time.  Castiel made the drink carelessly, hoping that it might be balanced different from last time and maybe do its original purpose.  He planted the drink in front of Azazel, a fair amount sloshing out.  Azazel took the drink and spoke up before Castiel had a chance to walk away.

“Havin’ a rough day?”

Castiel bit every immediate response and walked back to the other side of the bar, silently willing for Bobby to ask him to do something.  Anything to give him a reason to stay away from Azazel.  Bobby didn’t want another drink just yet, but he did want to know why the sudden mood change.

“I had the misfortune of meeting him not too long ago,” Castiel sighed, “There’s something unsettling about him.”

Bobby leaned to the side to look around Castiel at Azazel.  Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, surprised Bobby wasn’t even trying to be discreet about it.

“Looks kinda familiar,” Bobby mumbled, “What’s his name?”

“Azazel.”

“I remember him,” Bobby grumbled.

“From where?” Castiel asked.

“A couple months ago, he applied to work at the wildlife station,” Bobby started, “Had an interview with him and he just gave me the _creeps_.  Just the way he talked, like he thought I knew something and was trying to get at it.”

“That’s how he talks to me…Do you know what he’s after exactly?”

“No idea.  He kept trying to convince me to give him the job though.  Tellin’ me he’s experienced with hunting, trapping, tracking— That he was good with anything I’d need from him,” Bobby continued, “Tried to shake him by saying it’d just be a short term employment, not many folks want that, but he was all for it.”

Bobby nodded his head towards Azazel.  Castiel glanced over his shoulder to see Azazel waving for him.  Castiel visibly dropped his shoulders and went over reluctantly.

“I hate to interrupt,” Azazel mock-apologized, “But I got a question for ya.”

Castiel stared flatly at him.          

“You see a pretty good amount of people in here, right?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered.

With that, he moved to leave, but Azazel made a noise to call his attention again.  Castiel groaned softly as he turned around, seeing light amusement in Azazel’s eyes.

“Two questions then,” Azazel smiled, “I’m lookin’ for a friend of mine who lives around here.”

“Why don’t you just call them?”

“Well, that’s the problem.  See, he’s kind of an off-the-grid type of guy.  Doesn’t do technologies, doesn’t get out much.  But he does love a drink,” Azazel started, “And I’ve lost his address, so I was wondering if you happened to have seen him.”

“I don’t know,” Castiel sighed.

“He’s a little taller than me, pretty gruff lookin’.  He’s got that peppered beard thing started,” Azazel described, “In his late forties, early fifties.”

“You don’t know how old your friend is?” Castiel replied.

“I’m up there myself, memory tends to slip sometimes,” Azazel grinned.

“Well, I don’t think I can help you.  That description fits a lot of the patrons.”

“How about a name, then?”

“If he’s as old as you say, I wouldn’t card him and wouldn’t know his name.”

Azazel clicked his tongue and nodded, humming to himself.  Castiel took the opportunity to leave him again.  He went directly back to Bobby, the only other person at the bar.  He knew he’d have to find something to actually do soon if wanted to look too busy for Azazel to bother again.

“Y’know, if ya really don’t like him, you could always get a restraining order,” Bobby suggested.

“…I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I thought about it when he wouldn’t knock it off about the job.  Callin’ all the time and dropping by just about every day it seemed like,” Bobby grumbled.

Castiel thought about it for a moment and it sounded like a good idea.  Azazel clearly thought Castiel had something he wanted, and Castiel had a sinking suspicion of what it was until Azazel described who he was looking for.  Still, he didn’t feel like Azazel would leave him alone anytime soon.

 

As soon as Castiel was off work, he went straight for the court house.  He really didn’t know the full process of getting a restraining order, he’d only read a short summary of how to get one.  But he’d do whatever the court asked if meant having the law on his side about keeping Azazel away.

The courthouse wasn’t very big, especially compared to the ones in Seattle he’d been to seeing.  Despite that, he still felt lost inside it.  He ended up having to ask two people where he was supposed to go.  He found a stack of forms in a hallway, just beside an office window, and saw a temporary restraining order pile within the stacks.  It was a simple, one page form and Castiel was grateful for that.  He wrote down his name as well as his address to be protected, since he was fairly certain Azazel knew where he lived now.  But when he went to fill out who it was against, there was a problem.  He only knew Azazel’s first name, he had no idea how old Azazel was or when he was born, and he was terrible at guessing weight and height; Castiel only described people in relation to himself.

Castiel grumbled and groaned inwardly.  Then he wondered if the courthouse could tell him what he needed to know.  He went to the office window and asked the woman if she could tell him the missing information, but she couldn’t.  She had said it had to do with personal records and information, that only that person or person’s family could request the information.  Or something like that.  Castiel hadn’t listened very well after she declined, he’d already started thinking about what to do now that this plan had failed.  Azazel obviously wouldn’t tell him, not that Castiel ever wanted to get close to him, and the outdoor shop Azazel worked at would probably tell him the same thing about giving out information.  He tried calling Bobby, since he’d had an interview with him, but Bobby said he couldn’t remember.

Even still, he kept the paper with him, folding it up and stuffing it into his pocket as he left.  Maybe Bobby would remember his last name later.  Castiel was grumbling to himself almost the entire way home.  He took a deep breath, telling himself it wasn’t a big deal. 

When he walked through the front door, he was immediately met with a bear hug.  Dean caught him off guard, but of course, he quickly relaxed into it.  He could feel the concern and agitation about Azazel melt out of his body the longer Dean held him.

“Something wrong?” Dean asked softly.

“…No, it’s fine,” Castiel breathed.

At that moment, nothing was wrong.  He could still handle the situation with Azazel, as long as it didn’t progress.  And if it did, as long as Dean was always waiting for him, he could still handle it.

Dean pulled back, just enough to look at Castiel.  It didn’t look like Dean believed him, but Castiel cut him off before he could press it.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Castiel taunted.

“What is?  Why?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” Castiel deadpanned, “And because I found out your birthday.”

“Not get prez-ehnts for burth-day,” Dean said carefully.

“I know, Sam told me.  But you won’t be getting it on your birthday,” Castiel admitted.

Dean tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in thought.  Castiel could practically see all the guesses running through Dean’s mind.

“I really don’t think you’re going to guess it either,” Castiel smirked.

He patted Dean on the shoulder and went to the kitchen.  Dean stood in place a minute longer, still trying to come up with something.  He was stumped and went after Castiel in the kitchen.

“What is?” Dean asked.

“I already said I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“Can have, um…hint?”

“You’ll like it.”

Dean scowled at Castiel.

“A lot?” Castiel added coyly.

“Real hint,” Dean clarified.

Castiel folded his arms and thought about it for a second, but he couldn’t come up a good hint.  He just shrugged and told Dean he wouldn’t give him any hints.  Dean whined and pleaded, but Castiel refused.  Dean asked if he guessed something, if Castiel would tell him if he was right or not.  Castiel didn’t think Dean would ever guess what it was, and even if he did, he would lie, so he agreed to it.  Dean then proceeded to spout off a number of things while he moved around the kitchen making dinner.  Every single one was wrong and not even in the ball park of the right answer.

Dean kept it the rest of the night, curiosity practically killing him now.  Even when they curled up under the blankets, Dean would guess something every couple minutes.

“Dean, I love you, but if you don’t give it a rest for the night, you won’t get anything,” Castiel mumbled.

Dean gently butted his head against the back of Castiel’s with a pout.  He didn’t say anything, but Castiel could practically hear the gears in his head turning as he continued thinking about the surprise.  Castiel hummed to himself with a smile, both at the quiet now and feeling he’d definitely picked the right present.

The next couple days, Dean continued to guess; though not as frequently.  He wasn’t just throwing out random guesses anymore, he was putting more thought behind them.  He still wasn’t coming anywhere close and Castiel was still refusing to give him hints.

On his birthday, he asked if he could at least see it.  He knew he couldn’t have it, but he wanted to see.  Castiel told him no.  Dean pouted like a child and pleaded, but Castiel didn’t change his mind.  He only managed to stop Dean’s whining when he started in on baking a pie for him.

Dean became more focused on the pie, giving his thoughts a rest.  He waited anxiously for the pecan pie, his favorite, Castiel remembered, to be done.  Even a little more anxiously when Castiel made him sit down and wait for it to cool off.  He didn’t make Dean wait very long though, as soon as he could touch it for a few seconds without burning himself, he let Dean have it.  Castiel had a slice or two out of the pie and the rest went to Dean.  Castiel gave his own share a little extra time to cool off while he snickered as he watched Dean eat the still hot pie.  He was all open mouth chewing and sucking in sharp breaths to push through the burn. 

By the time he’d finished off the pie was when Castiel decided it was actually a reasonable temperature to eat it.  Dean eyed his pie with a little longing, but Castiel didn’t give into him.  He’d gotten plenty of pie, it wasn’t his fault he’d wolfed it all down so quickly.  Castiel set his plate off to the side on the couch once he’d finished.

“Well, since I don’t have anything for your actual birthday— apart from pie—“ Castiel started, “Is there something you’d like?”

“Um… Not think so,” Dean hummed.

Castiel stared up at Dean, he could see there was something Dean was thinking about.  He sat upright and studied Dean’s face for a second, trying to guess what it might be.  There was a little thought in the back of his head of what it was, but he wasn’t sure.

“What?”

“There is something you want…” Castiel said slowly.

Dean shrugged and looked away, but that didn’t hide the tinge of blush Castiel could see creeping on the tip of his ear.  That only reinforced the idea Castiel was getting.  He leaned against Dean a bit, bringing his hand up to cup his face and turn his head back towards him.  His eyes only met Castiel’s for a brief second, then trying to find literally anything else to look at to better hide his thoughts.  Thoughts currently being betrayed by the spreading blush.  Castiel moved closer, purposefully trying to fluster Dean.

“Dean, what do you want?” Castiel asked.

“Nothing,” Dean mumbled.

“Dean.”

Dean let a shaky breath and flicked his eyes up.  Castiel could see the answer was just on the tip of his tongue now.

“What do you want?” Castiel repeated.

“W- _want your ass_ ,” Dean murmured.

Castiel would be damned if that didn’t send sparks through his body.  Of all the sentences Dean managed to string together, that one was straight out of a porn.  Castiel shuddered at the thought, he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to go that far yet.  He’d been hesitant at first only because of the intimacy, but after having seen Dean’s size and knot, he had more reason.  He warred back and forth with whether or not he wanted to now, not fully realizing how long he’d gone without responding.

“Not have to…”

Dean moved to sit back, snapping Castiel back to the present with his decision.

“No, I want to,” Castiel blurted.

Dean stared at him for a moment, searching for any signs of reservations.

“Honestly,” Castiel added, doing his best to sound earnest.

He was being honest, he had decided he wanted to.  But that didn’t change the fact that he was nervous about it.  Dean grabbed him by the waist, pulling him almost flush against him and roughly pressed his lips against Castiel’s.  Castiel pushed his anxiousness aside, focusing just on Dean’s warm, breathless kisses.  Dean’s hands gripped at his hips, stilling them; he hadn’t even realized he started moving.  Dean rubbed his thumbs over his hips before slipping his hands under his shirt.

One hand went back to his hip while the other worked to undo his belt and pants.  Castiel had nothing to undo, instead just trailing his hand down to Dean’s cock.  He curled his fingers around it, feeling it harden in his grasp.  Dean whimpered at the touch, stalling for a moment, before moving the hand not holding Castiel’s hip past the waist band of his boxers.  Castiel tensed when Dean’s fingers brushed near the cleft of his ass.  Dean stopped and massaged at Castiel’s ass in somewhat of a reassuring manner.  Once he relaxed, Dean moved his hand again.

“Wait,” Castiel breathed.

Dean stopped again, trembling slightly with excitement.

“Can— can we go…?” Castiel nodded his head towards his bedroom.

Dean nodded dumbly, hooking both hands under Castiel’s thighs and lifting him up as he stood.  Castiel would never admit to the tiny gasp that escaped him at that moment.  Dean took long strides down the hall, bumping into the wall a couple times.  He’d been too distracted with kissing Castiel.  As soon as he reached the edge of the bed, he practically dropped Castiel on to it and fell on top of him.

Dean propped himself up on his hands and knees, then used one hand to prompt Castiel to roll over.  Castiel went with the motion, but crawled further up the bed and towards the edge.  Dean watched him in a haze of confusion.  Castiel reached over the edge and to the night stand, fishing through the drawer until he found something.  Dean crawled up beside him to see what it was; a small opaque bottle with a label he couldn’t read.

Castiel offered it to Dean, thinking he already knew what it was.  Dean didn’t say anything, he just took the bottle and opened it.  The scent was vaguely familiar, a skinwalker he’d been with a while back had asked him to use it before he did anything. 

Castiel rolled over onto his stomach, wrapping his arms around the pillow and waiting.  Dean tugged his pants and boxers off.  He sat back on his haunches and squeezed the lube out on to his fingers, before crawling over Castiel again.  Dean dropped to one elbow as he rubbed a finger around Castiel’s rim.  He nuzzled at the side of Castiel’s face and pressed light, butterfly kisses to his jaw and neck.  He helped him to relax, but he was still caught off guard when Dean pressed a finger into him.  He held the pillow tighter, panting brokenly and willing himself to calm down.  Dean kept still as possible and waited until Castiel’s breathing evened out again.

Dean worked his finger around, stretching as much as he could with just the one before adding another.  Again, when Castiel’s breathing quickened, Dean paused.  Castiel was sure it was taking every ounce of self-control for Dean to go this slow and remain patient.  Truth be told, it wasn’t taking him much at all.  He’d rather wait longer than hurt or scare Castiel. 

When he was calm again, Dean scissored his fingers and stretched him further until he could add a third finger.  The same thing was repeated and Dean had four fingers working in and out of Castiel now.  He was panting now, getting a little over excited at finally being able to sink into Castiel.  He rubbed the remainder of the lube along the length of his shaft and sat back from Castiel, who tensed at his withdrawal. 

Dean ran a soothing hand over his lower back while he took his cock in his other hand and lined up with Castiel’s hole.  Castiel groaned at the feeling of his cockhead pressing against him rim, then let out a loud moan when Dean pushed in.  It felt like he was slowly being split open as Dean’s cock filled him.  Dean kept going until he was fully sheathed inside Castiel, hands braced on either side of Castiel’s shoulders.  He waited for just a second before pulling back and pushing in again with more force.  With no objections from Castiel, Dean quickly picked up the pace.

Every snap of his hips jarred Castiel, accompanied by the sound his balls smacking against Castiel’s own.  Castiel bowed his back, canting his up a little more to meet Dean on every thrust.  As soon as he did, Dean nailed his prostate, forcing out the dirtiest moan Castiel had ever given in his life.  He didn’t even need to look over his shoulder to know Dean had the most prideful, if not predatory, grin on his face.  He kept hitting Castiel’s prostate on every thrust after that, relishing the sounds that spilled from Castiel.

Castiel tried to quiet himself by biting the pillow, but Dean wouldn’t have it.  He managed to grab the pillow and toss it aside without a single change in his rhythm.  Castiel rucked his fists up in the sheets and resigned to being loud. 

When it felt like there was more pressure in his hands, Castiel’s breathing hitched with a gasp.  He tensed up, clenching around Dean.  The pressure continued to build, making Dean more forceful with every thrust.  If he wanted Dean to stop, he’d have to speak now.  As if reading his mind, Dean slowed his pace and spoke up.

“Want?”

“ _…Yes_ ,” Castiel breathed.

Dean immediately resumed him rhythm, working harder to force his swelling cock in and out of Castiel’s hole.  He grunted with every movement, giving one hard shove before he couldn’t pull out anymore.  Castiel came on the first tug at his rim, crying Dean’s name and staining the sheets.  Dean growled when Castiel clenched around him again, spilling deep into his ass.  He rutted deeper, reducing Castiel to a whimpering mess as he kept coming in his ass. 

Castiel was whining Dean’s name and pleading, though he wasn’t sure what for.  Dean draped himself over Castiel’s back, nipping and kissing at his jaw.  He muttered short little praises and thanks as he snaked his arms under Castiel and rolled the both of them onto their sides.  Castiel grabbed Dean’s hands and brought them up to his chest, feeling more grounded that way.  Dean nuzzled the back of his neck, warmth breath ghosting over his skin.  He gave a couple more small thrusts, spilling another thick load into Castiel.  Castiel whimpered and held Dean’s hands tighter as he pushed back against him.

“Okay?” Dean asked softly.

Castiel didn’t trust himself to speak, he just gave a quick nod.  It was more intense than he’d anticipated, but he was alright. 

“Love you,” Dean murmured against his skin.

“L-love you too,” Castiel managed.

Dean tightened arms around Castiel, who took a few deep breaths to calm his pounding heart.  The room grew heavy with wordless silence, the only thing Castiel could hear was his slowing heart beat and Dean’s breathing behind him.  Occasionally, Dean would make some small movement that inevitably resulted in a tug on Castiel’s rim.  But the pressure slowly began to lessen as the minutes ticked by.  But Castiel fell asleep before Dean was soft enough to slip out.

               

When he woke up, his ass felt sore and sticky with dry cum.  He wiggled around in Dean’s hold until he could prop himself up on an elbow and look down.  Dean’s cum had leaked out and ran over his ass cheek and thigh, making a little pool on the sheets and thoroughly staining that spot.  Castiel dropped back down, face heating up at the embarrassment.  He tried to go back to sleep, but he mess at his ass was bothering him now. 

Castiel slipped out of Dean’s hold and went straight for the shower.  He stepped under the spray and started washing off the sweat of last night.  He heard a sound from his room and, honestly, figured Dean had woken up at his absence.  A minute later, Dean was poking his head into the shower.

“Al-right?” Dean asked.

“Yes, I’m just dirty,” Castiel sighed, “Thanks to _someone_.”

Dean gave him a crooked, smug grin.  He stepped into the shower with Castiel to clean himself off, though he decided to clean Castiel first.  He didn’t object when Dean took the soap and ran it over his skin, working it into a lather all down his backside.  When Dean rubbed at his lower back and ass, he felt a different kind of slick in his ass that wasn’t soap or water.  He let out a quiet, breathless ‘oh my god’ as the last of Dean’s cum dripped out of him.

Dean didn’t try anything suggestive on him, which he was glad for.  He wasn’t sure if he was ready for round two so quickly.  Dean finished cleaning him and scrubbed himself down quickly. 

Castiel got out and dried off, getting dressed and going to make breakfast.  Dean was right behind him, watching Castiel the whole time.  Not in a creeping or overly concerned way, just with affection.  It made Castiel blush and smile, feeling like a little school girl.

If Dean had been reluctant to let Castiel go to work before, it was nothing compared to this.  He whined and complained far more than normal, even lightly tugging Castiel back or blocking his path.  He didn’t resist much when Castiel pulled or pushed him aside; he just groaned and whined more. 

When it became clear this method wasn’t going to work, he dropped on the couch over dramatically.  Castiel rolled his eyes at him and promised he’d come back right after he stopped at the store after work.  Dean squawked at having to wait longer, but clamped his mouth shut when Castiel said it was because he needed detergent to wash the stained sheets.  Dean gave him a coy grin and wink before he left.

               

All day at work, Castiel was more conscious of how he was standing and moving.  He was too worried about leaking; it wasn’t like he knew for sure everything was out.  He clenched up when paranoia got the better of him.  Ellen would look at him funny whenever she caught him and Jo would just raise her eyebrows and bite back a little giggle.  Castiel tried to ignore it, or glare back in the case with Jo, but it wasn’t quite working.  He was thankful they didn’t say anything about it.

The trip to the store after work was quick.  He was one of the few people who planned on getting just one thing and actually got just one thing.  He went straight home, as promised, and was welcomed home by Dean having made dinner again.  The blankets should probably be washed immediately at that point, but Castiel figured it had waited all day.  It could stand wait just a little longer while he ate dinner.

Afterwards, Castiel went straight to washing his bedding, making a face at the stains as he picked the blankets up.  They wouldn’t be done by tonight, he’d have to sleep on either the couch or a bare mattress with spare blankets.  Since the bedding would tie up the washer and dryer for the night, he’d also have to wait on doing the rest of his laundry.  Which he was just now seeing how much there was to do; apparently he’d been putting it off for quite a while.

The next couple days he spent catching up on chores, namely laundry.  Dean helped out as best as he could, chores were something he’d never had to do.  But sorting out clothes and making sure there was nothing in them was easy enough.  When Dean picked up one particular pair of pants, he found a folded up piece of paper.

“What is?” Dean asked.

Castiel looked over to see Dean discarding the pants Castiel had been wearing earlier in favor of unfolding a sheet of paper.  He turned the paper around a few times until it was oriented right, then tilting it to the side as if it would help him read it better.

“It’s a restraining order,” Castiel answered.

Dean glanced at him curiously.

“It— Basically it means someone has to stay away from me.”

“This?  How?  Just paper,” Dean waved it for emphasis.

“Yeah,” Castiel breathed a laugh, “But I give it to a court and they can make it illegal for that person to come near me.”

Dean frowned, rolling his eyes in disbelief.  He held the paper a little closer, trying to decipher what it said and who it was Castiel wanted to stay away.  Castiel dismissed it, letting Dean work it out on his own.  He’d learned that Dean liked trying to read on his own, whenever he happened to have the chance and interest together, and only wanted help when he asked.  He got through folding a couple pairs of pants before he noticed Dean looking particularly stumped by a word.

“Ah…Ahz-ahz-el…?”

“Aza—“

“ _Azazel?!_ ” Dean barked.

Castiel flinched at his sudden outburst and froze in his spot.

“Azazel?!” Dean repeated.

He snapped his arm out, holding the paper to Castiel’s face.  Castiel slowly took it from him, trying to figure out how Dean knew Azazel.

“Yes,” Castiel replied, “How do you…?”

“Where?” Dean demanded.

“In town somewhere,” Castiel answered quickly, “Dean, how— Where are you going?”

Dean brushed past him, taking long strides for the door.  Castiel tried to get his attention, but Dean ignored him.  He ran ahead of Dean, jumping directly in his way.  Dean huffed and tried to muster up a glare, but something prevented it from having much heat.  Castiel studied him for a second before repeating his question.

“Where are you going?” Castiel asked, more softly.

“Need talk to Sam,” Dean muttered, pausing for a moment, “And dad.”

“Right now?”

Dean nodded solemnly.

“Why?”

“Azazel.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes in confusion, once again trying to figure out the connection.  Dean had the same saddened expression he got whenever he was thinking about his mother.  Castiel felt like he had an idea starting to form, but Dean didn’t wait long enough for his thoughts to actually form an answer.  Dean was gently pushing him aside and throwing the door open.

Castiel turned and opened his mouth, but Dean was already off and running.  Castiel let his breath go in a disappointed sigh as he went to shut the door.  He heard Dean howl in the distance and suddenly his vague idea became a solid thought.  Azazel had been way too interested in his ‘dog’; Castiel hoped beyond reason that Azazel may still believe that.  Or at least, not disbelieve him entirely.  He’d also mentioned almost having the perfect wolf trophy, but a hunting incident had ruined it.  Dean’s mother, Mary, had died long ago but Dean had yet to say how.  But with his reaction to Azazel’s name, he didn’t need to.  Castiel bolted over to cell phone, fumbling it as he texted Sam.

_‘Sam, I need to speak to you.’_

Castiel waited anxiously for Sam to reply.  He fidgeted nervously and was about to just call him when he phone pinged with a message.

‘ _Sam just left.  What’s up? –Jess’_

_‘Where did he go?’_

_‘Idk, Dean called him.  He didn’t say what it was about tho.  Did something happen?’_

_‘No.  But I think something might.’_

Rather than another text message, Castiel’s phone lit up with a call.

“Cas?  What’s going on?” Jessica asked.

“I’m not— entirely sure, I was going to ask Sam.  But perhaps you know,” Castiel said, “Does ‘Azazel’ sound familiar at all?”

“…Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Cas,” Jessica sighed, “I can tell you’re a smart guy, and from the sound of it, I think you know.”

“…Azazel killed their mother,” Castiel said, more to himself.

“Mm-hmm,” Jessica hummed, “Do you know how?”

“No, Dean is— less than forthcoming about that.”

“Alright, well, may as well tell you then.”

Castiel sat down and listened.  A little while before Mary had died, a man had shown up at John’s work; he was a mechanic.  John had thought the guy was kind of creepy, he always asked strange questions that seemed to be hinting at something.  John was never sure what he was getting at, but it made him paranoid.  He told Mary about the man, Azazel, and the more they thought about it, the better they thought it would be to distance themselves from him.  Even if it meant losing too many hours at work, their safety was more important. 

John’s manager questioned why he wanted lighter shifts and John told him it was because Mary needed help with their newborn, Sam.  It wasn’t entirely untrue, she was left with a toddler and an infant on her own.  The manager understood and gave him the lighter shifts.  A few other workers asked out of concern, they were all close since it was a small shop, and the manager had no problem telling them.  A couple of them offered to help John out, either financially or helping with errands.  Both he and Mary appreciated it, but they were wary.  They didn’t want too many people coming by the house with young skinwalkers who were still learning when it was appropriate to transform.  But they accepted offers here and there if there was no risk; and if it wasn’t Azazel.

However, John thought he was seeing Azazel driving down their street.  At that point, they became very withdrawn and private.  They had no doubts he knew what they were and they were considering moving into a haven on a reservation.  Every tribe offered safety and protection for skinwalkers, as a thanks for the skinwalkers once protecting them.

Shortly thereafter, Mary could swear she’d catch someone peaking in a window or something rustling the bushes just a bit too much.  She knew right then that they were being stalked and pleaded John to move as soon as possible.  He agreed, of course, and it didn’t take long for a new home to come up in a haven.  They wanted to move as soon as possible and spent entire days packing.  They were nearly done one night, but too exhausted to finish the rest.  Mary put Sam to bed and came back downstairs for Dean, telling him it was time to put his book down and go to sleep.  She was fairly sure none of the other preschoolers were reading yet, but he loved reading; or at least, loved trying to read. 

Another movement outside caught her eye and set her on edge.  Dean asked, but she said it was nothing and hustled him to his room.  After she tucked him in and shut the door, she told John.  He decided to stay up downstairs to keep watch while she stayed upstairs with the boys.

Unfortunately, John was too tired to stay awake all night and fell asleep in the chair.  Later in the night, Mary got restless and got up to go check on the boys.  Dean was fast asleep, tangled up in his blankets.  In the nursery, she saw John standing beside Sam’s crib.  He held up a finger to indicate Sam was sleeping; he didn’t sleep as heavy as Dean did.  Mary hummed tiredly and went downstairs to get something to drink, then saw her husband passed out in the chair, clearly illuminated by the TV.

She ran upstairs, yelling for Sam and screaming to wake John up.  He started awake, but wasted no time thinking as he bolted up after her.  In the short time it took to reach the nursery, Mary had already gotten into a brawl with the intruder.  She was all growls and fangs, snapping viciously at the man who dared break into their house and her youngest son’s room.  The man struggled against her, resulting in both of them being thrown or slammed into walls and furniture while Sam cried at the top of his lungs.

John ran past them, knowing Mary could hold her own in a fight; especially when family was threatened.  He snatched up Sam and turned to get him out of the room, only to have his ankle caught by the intruder.  He felt to the floor, kicking at the hand and twisting over.

“ _…Azazel?!”_

_“Heya, John.  Cute kid.”_

Mary had clamped down on his arm, twisting it until he let go of John.  He scrambled up and saw Dean in the doorway, woken by the fight and clinging to the frame in confusion and fear.  John shoved Sam into his arms and told him to run, shooing him away and freeing himself to help Mary.  The fight escalated, this wasn’t Azazel’s first fight with skinwalkers, and tumbled through the house; prompting Dean to run faster.

According to John, too many things were getting broken and torn from wires.  One of the live wires must’ve caught something and ignited a fire.  Neither he nor Mary had been willing to let Azazel go and continued the fight as the fire grew and began to swallow rooms.  It wasn’t until the house began to fall apart as glass blew out that they tried to escape.  At that point, they were all scrambling for an exit.  Azazel kept pulling one of them back or shoving them aside, while they would do the same to him.  All the violence on the already weakened staircase caused several steps to give way, taking Mary down with them; immediately followed by a chunk of ceiling.  John had tried his damnedest to save her, even letting Azazel go, but there was nothing he could do.  She cried for him to leave, save himself and keep their children safe.  He hesitated a good minute before she yelled at him to go. 

He cursed everything, turning and running out to the yard.  He snatched up Dean from where he was waiting, with Sam still in his arms, and kept running until they were a safe distance away.  Sirens filled the air as fire engines came hauling down the street.  Both he and Dean had numbly watched the firemen hustle to put out the fire.  Paramedics came to them, but he didn’t remember responding to anything they said or asked.  His mind had been narrowed to finding vengeance for Mary.

But Azazel was nowhere to be seen, he was in the wind.  That was when John had pulled Dean from school and gone off hunting for Azazel.  They’d had too many close calls trying to hunt him in the more common, modern way.  That spurred John to get rid of the impala and take the boys off the grid, using aid from rogue, ‘wild’ packs of skinwalkers to track down Azazel.

 

Castiel rubbed at his eyes.  It was no wonder now that Dean was so well traveled and met dozens of packs.  Skinwalkers, apparently, weren’t nomadic.  It was just them chasing after leads on the man who killed Mary.  And Castiel had just given Dean what was probably the most helpful one they’d ever had.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sooo sorry it took so long to post this, i promise i'm not gonna let this kinda thing become a habit. as proof of that, i pretty much wrote this whole thing in the last three days and am now posting it at 130 in the morning. so if there's any errors, feel free to point them out bc i'm tired and supposed to be getting up in 5 hours  
> anyway, as always, comments are super cool. [following me on tumblr](http://leo-arcana.tumblr.com) is also super cool.


	16. Worrier

Castiel spent the rest of the night wondering, jumping to conclusions and then worrying.  The next day wasn’t much better; actually it was a little worse.  The same went for the second day.  He hadn’t seen head or tail of Dean and was beginning to worry something might pop up on the news.  He worried more when he thought _nothing_ might come up.  Castiel fidgeted around work nervously, trying to stamp down all the ideas popping up in his mind.  He had to remind himself Dean was smart, he knew how to take care of himself and he wasn’t reckless.  On top of that, he would— or should— have Sam and their dad with him.  Three on one should work out in their favor just fine. 

Then Castiel remembered the night Azazel had gotten in the truck with someone else.  Were they a skinwalker hunter too?  He chewed his lip, mentally correcting himself; three on two.  Still, it was in their favor.  Castiel took a deep breath and focused on whatever task he was doing at the time, refusing to acknowledge the nagging thoughts in his mind.

It worked until his shift was over and he was left with going home and no distractions.  He drummed his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel the entire way home.  He fumbled his keys at the door, quietly cursing his fingers before he was able to open the door.  Castiel would be lying if he said he hadn’t been hoping to see Dean laying on the couch, waiting for him.  But he wasn’t. 

Castiel shrugged his jacket off and tossed it on the couch before heading down the hall to take a shower.  It was a little harder to ignore his thoughts now, but he was managing.  His shower was quick and about the time he was putting pajamas on, he swore he heard a door creak shut.  Castiel scrambled to put his pajamas on and nearly sprinted down the hallway to catch Dean halfway towards the hallway.

He paused a second before staring towards Dean, then stopping again.  His eyes ran over Dean’s skin, lightly decorated with both fresh and healing nicks and cuts; some looking like bites and others like claw marks.  Dean drew in on himself a little, but offered a meekly reassuring smile.  Castiel walked closer, eyes flicking back and forth between Dean’s eyes and a different injury.

“What happened?” Castiel asked.

“Had deesa— disa…um, fight.”

“Disagreement?” Castiel scoffed.

“Fight.”

“With who?”

“Dad.”

“Over what?”

“Fight with Sam.”

“Over what?” Castiel repeated.

Dean licked his lips and shifted his weight, clearly thinking about how to word his answer.  There was a brief look of annoyance on his face, a tell whenever Dean was going to try speaking in complete sentences.

“I t-told dad…about Azazel,” Dean started, “H-he wanted to, um…go after him.  That night.  Sam not— did not ah-gree.  They started fighting.  I had to, uh, brayk up fight.  Dad got mad and…dee-fensive.  Asked what I th-thought.”

“What did you say?”

“The same as Sam.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side.  He would’ve guessed that Dean would want to go straight in.

“Ah-greed with dad at first,” Dean admitted, “But Sam had good— _a_ good point.  H-he said if we fay-eld, Azazel could, um, come after the p-people we loved.  Because he would— would find out somehow, if he d-didn’t already.  Threat-en or use as, um…leh-ver-age, or…kill.”

The last word was whimpered out.  Castiel immediately closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck.  Dean fell into the embrace, snaking his arms around Castiel’s waist tightly.

“Not want to put in m-more danger th-than already,” Dean mumbled.

Castiel regretted not mentioning Azazel sooner.  Maybe if he had, the problem would already be taken care of.  Or maybe he wouldn’t be in as much danger, couldn’t be _as much_ leverage against Dean.  Castiel buried his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel mumbled.

“Why?”

“Should’ve told you sooner.”

Castiel both heard and felt Dean hum in agreement, though he could tell Dean wasn’t upset with him about it.  Castiel hugged him a little tighter before pulling back and looking at Dean again.

“How come you didn’t go to that healing stream?”

“Just want to come home,” Dean smiled.

Castiel quirked a half-smile and shook his head.

“Go to sleep?” Dean asked, nodding towards his pajamas.

“I was thinking about it, I wasn’t sure if you were coming back tonight,” Castiel said.

“Here now,” Dean replied simply.

“Then I suppose I will go to bed.”

Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand and gave him a light tug to follow after.  Dean went willing, of course, and ended up taking the lead.  He dropped down on the bed and dragged Castiel down after him.  He didn’t let go of Castiel’s hand and made it a point to keep him from using it to right himself.  Dean just pulled on his arm with a crooked grin and kept him off balance until he pulled Castiel up beside him.  Castiel scowled at him indignantly, clenching his jaw to hide amusement, and lightly jabbed Dean in the stomach with his elbow. 

As he settled down against Dean, Dean placed little apologetic kisses along the back of his neck and snaked his arms around him.  Castiel grabbed his hands and pulled them up closer to his own chest, gently turning them one way or the other, taking a slight interest in the couple scratches.  He traced his thumb over one with a sigh, then just started tracing random patterns over the backs of his hands.  Dean let out a content breath, finding the motion more soothing than Castiel would’ve thought.  He nuzzled the back of Castiel’s neck and relaxed, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Castiel kept doing it for a few more minutes until thoughts revolving around Azazel started plaguing his mind again.

“So…what’re you gonna do?” Castiel whispered.

“Bout what?” Dean breathed.

“Azazel.”

Castiel felt Dean’s muscles tense under his skin.  He twisted his neck around to look up at Dean and waited for answer.  Dean clenched his jaw and glanced off to the side, letting a breath out.

“Stalk and hunt,” Dean said simply, “Find best time.”

Castiel hummed in acknowledgment, distantly wondering how long they would spend stalking Azazel.  He snorted in light amusement that the one stalking him was now the one who was going to be stalked.  But any trace of humor was erased when he wondered who would get what they wanted.  Castiel squirmed a little and wiggled back against Dean, holding his hands a little tighter.  Dean nuzzled the back of his head, planting a few sleepy kisses with a comforting squeeze.  Castiel relaxed a bit, but couldn’t quiet his mind completely.  He tried to focus on Dean’s breathing, listening as it began to slow and even out. 

At some point in the night, he had managed to fall asleep.  When morning came, he woke up with a start and dug his fingers into the arms around him.  Dean gave a weak whine of protest, pushing his arms back against Castiel’s fingers.  He let go and balled his hands into loose fists, muttering an apology.  Dean’s arms slipped away from him, but Dean didn’t move much.  The bed moved as Dean propped himself up on an elbow and leaned over Castiel to look at his face.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, just a bad dream, I suppose,” Castiel sighed sleepily.

“What about?”

“I don’t know.”

There had been something, he could still feel the fear subsiding.  But he couldn’t remember what it was.  Dean rubbed his face against Castiel, giving him a soft peck on the lips.  Castiel wrinkled his nose at the morning breath, which, surprisingly, wasn’t terrible for someone who probably never brushed their teeth.  Dean worked one arm under Castiel and held him as he rolled onto his back, bringing Castiel most of the way on top of him.  Castiel propped himself up on Dean’s chest, looking down to find him staring up almost expectantly.  He dropped his head and swallowed, making sure he could keep his voice as casual as possible.

“When are you leaving to go— stalk?”

“Too-day.”

Castiel flicked his eyes up at him.

“How long are you going to be gone?”

“Come back at night,” Dean smiled softly.

Castiel squinted his eyes.

“Are you gonna figure out everything you need in a day?” Castiel asked incredulously.

“Maybe not.  But come back anyway.”

Castiel smiled, tapping his forehead against Dean’s.

“And if you do— figure out whatever you need, I mean.  How long before…?”

Dean sighed, tipping his head back and making Castiel lift his own, and draped his other arm over Castiel’s lower back.  He clicked jaw side to side a few times in thought and glanced down his nose at Castiel.

“Day?” Dean guessed.

“That quick?”

Castiel hadn’t meant to say it out loud.  He snapped his mouth shut, mentally chiding himself for it.  Even without the look Dean was giving him, he knew it wasn’t quick.  If anything, it was a fairly long time.

Dean huffed a laugh and gave him one last kiss before pushing Castiel off.  He sat up and looked out of the window, smile fading away into a more solemn expression.  Castiel sat up beside him and followed his gaze to see two wolves at the edge of his property.  Dean pushed himself off the bed and padded down the hallway, Castiel was right behind him as soon as he threw the blankets off. 

From the living room window, he could see them more clearly.  One was taller than Dean, though leaner, with shaggy brown fur; Sam.  The other was shorter and stood with his head low, with a peppered black pelt and a few thin lines of healed scars; John.  If Castiel could tell anything by body language, Sam was uneasy and John was annoyed. 

When Dean reached for the door, the gravity of the situation really sunk in then.  Castiel grabbed his hand and stopped him, earning a curious look from Dean.  He tugged on his hand, gently urging him to come closer.  Dean stalled for only a brief second, but it was long enough for Castiel to notice and send a twang of hurt and confusion through him. 

“You’re coming back tonight, right?” Castiel asked.

Dean nodded.

He dipped his head to get a better look at Castiel and could see the growing worry.

“Prah-miss,” Dean said.

Dean wrapped his arms reassuringly around Castiel one more time and pressed his lips to the top of his head.  In Castiel’s opinion, it was too short of a moment before Dean was letting go and heading for the door again.  As soon as he crossed the threshold, Dean’s body twisted and cracked down into a dire wolf.  Castiel watched him trot out to Sam and John and started to turn away once Dean met them, but a quick movement caught his eye.

Almost immediately, John was snapping and snarling at Dean, ears laid flat and baring his teeth.  Dean ducked down, but responded just as viciously with Sam joining in.  Both the brothers stood opposite of John, growling and snapping while he bristled.  John snapped his head towards Castiel and started towards the house, sending a chill down his spine and making him want to cower somewhere.  Dean bristled up and jumped to block John’s view with a feral, angered barks.  The three of them continued gnashing teeth and growling at each other.

Obviously, they were arguing, in a downright frightening way, but it took up until John started at him that it clicked _why_.  Castiel remembered Jessica saying her boyfriend’s dad didn’t approve of her and he’d been confused until he found out it was because she was human.  Castiel was human.  John instantly hated him for it.  Being a male human probably didn’t help much either.  That’s why Dean had stalled.

They carried on for probably another minute before both Sam and Dean were butting their heads against John, pushing him away and urging him back to the task at hand.  He huffed and snapped again, close enough to Dean's face that he flinched.  Castiel gritted his teeth and glared at him for it.  John reluctantly turned and slunk under the fence, leading them down the steep hill.  Dean glanced over his shoulder one more time with an apologetic look before ducking his head and disappearing over the fence as well.

Castiel stumbled back, more shaken by the sight of the argument than he’d realized, and collapsed onto the couch.  He didn’t have work today, which meant he had nothing to distract himself with.  For a moment, he wondered if he went out somewhere, perhaps the outdoor shop Azazel worked at, if he’d see them skulking around.  He snorted at the idea; if _he_ could spot them, then a trained skinwalker hunter definitely would and things would escalate immediately.  No, they were just as skilled at hunting, if not more, as Azazel was.  They could probably get within feet of something before being noticed and at that point, it’d be too late.

Castiel spend a good couple hours thinking and imaging them hunting.  Admittedly, his thoughts were more on Dean, but only because it was easier to imagine someone he knew well than someone he didn’t.  He remembered Dean’s stories and had seen him take down a cougar in the spur of the moment with little effort.  Another shiver ran down his spine as he pictured Dean stalking some poor unsuspecting soul.

Castiel tried to think about something else for a while, but it was proving to be rather difficult.  Everything he did to distract himself somehow found a way to link back to some thought about them hunting.  He got fed up with and tried to take a nap, which only allowed the images and worries to run rampant and result in just twisting around uncomfortably on his head.  He wouldn’t be able to stand this for more than a couple days, even if Dean came back every night.

In an effort to ease his worries, he tried to think of them being successful in hunting.  Maybe more successful than they were trying to currently be.  But that image presented itself with more fear than Castiel had anticipated.  It wouldn’t be a clean kill, that was for sure.  The pictures in his mind were all dark and bloodied, sending chills down his spine as they aggressively reminded Castiel they weren’t human; they were monsters, for lack of a better word.  Massive dire wolves that could walk around in human skin.

Castiel shuddered and pushed the thoughts away.  After that, it was easier to distract himself with chores around the house.  Sometimes thoughts of their failure crept back into his mind, but they were countered by the chilling thoughts of success.

Hours later, when night had fallen, he heard the back door open.  He dashed to the living room to find Dean all in one piece and without a drop of anyone’s blood on him.  He breathed a quiet sigh of relief and relaxed.  Dean sensed the concern and closed the space between them to give him a reassuring hug.

“What’d you find out?” Castiel asked.

“Might have acc- um…might be two,” Dean answered.

Castiel’s suspicions had been right then.  Whoever Azazel had gotten in the truck with a short while ago was working with him.

“Do you know who?”

Dean shook his head.

Castiel grimaced, but at least they were aware of a second threat.  His mind started going off another tangent about different possibilities.  It distracted him more than he realized because all of a sudden Dean was lightly shaking his shoulder to get his attention and looking at him with concern.

“What wrong?”

“N-nothing,” Castiel forced out, “I’m, uh… just thinking too much.”

“Will be okay,” Dean promised, “Good at this.”

Castiel nodded.

Dean wrapped him up in another hug.  In that moment, all Castiel wanted to was sleep to quiet his mind just for a little while.  It seemed that was all the more Dean wanted to do as well as he scooted Castiel towards his bedroom.

Castiel took his shirt and pants off, not feeling much like wearing pajamas tonight.  Dean was pleased with the decision, but didn’t hint at anything more.  He burrowed up against Dean, folding his arms to his chest and drawing his legs up.  Just as every night, Dean held him in a warm embrace.  He nuzzled Castiel’s head or rubbed a hand down his arm every so often.  Each motion helped him to relax and drift off to sleep, leaving only a dull dread for the next day.

And the next day had gone almost exactly the same, though it was spent at work.  He was fidgety all day, but blamed it on no sleep.  At the end of his shift, he was anxious to get back home.  Dean wasn’t there, which stirred up a mix of concern and fear.  But he came in just a couple hours later.  Castiel asked about the stalking again, but it didn’t sound like there was really much to say.  They knew where Azazel worked and had a good idea of where he lived as well as a couple places he frequented.  One of those places, they suspected was where the second person was.  With the discovery of a possible accomplice, they’d spend more time stalking to figure out who they were.

A few more days passed just the same and they were certain Azazel was working with another hunter.  They still didn’t have a name, but that wasn’t of much import.  He was more elusive than Azazel was, he didn’t venture out much.  But they did know of two spots he went to at random times of the day.

Castiel was almost on John’s side, wishing they’d hurry up and get it over with.  He reasoned with himself that they were being cautious, but it didn’t do much for the anxiety. 

However, one night wasn’t as bad.  He’d had a long and busy day at work, because of Valentine’s Day, which hadn’t left much room for those kinds of feelings and thoughts.  Castiel sat on the couch with his head tipped back and eyes closed, considering a nap when he heard Dean come inside.  He smiled gratefully when the couch dipped beside him and Dean leaned up against him.  Castiel was nearly asleep when Dean spoke up.

“Is, um, Vah-len-time’s Day,” Dean commented.             

“Yes, it is,” Castiel replied coyly.

“Sam is tay-king Jess out,” Dean added.

“To dinner and a movie?” Castiel smirked.

“May-be, not ask,” Dean shrugged.

Castiel hummed and watched Dean from the corner of his eye.  He knew exactly what Dean was getting at, but he wanted to hear it.  Dean kept his eyes on his hands, fidgeting with his fingers and chewing his lip.  Castiel waited just a moment longer and considering just asking, but Dean decided that moment to speak.

“Want go out?” Dean blurted.

“I’d love to.”

Castiel loved the relieved and breathless smile that broke across Dean’s face.

“What’d you have in mind?” Castiel asked.

Then Dean’s smile faltered.  He hadn’t thought of what to do, he never had to.

“Um…dinner and movie?” Dean ventured.

Castiel snorted and shook his head.  But he was curious how an actual date with Dean would go.

“Alright, where should we go for dinner and what movie?”

Dean wrinkled his nose in thought.

“Surprise?” Dean tried.

Castiel snorted again, this time giving a short laugh. 

“Okay, surprise then,” Castiel agreed, “Go put some clothes on.”

Dean rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, but got up any way.  Castiel waited while he got dressed and actually started getting a little impatient when Dean took longer than normal.  Normal was five minutes or so, he was currently at fifteen and counting.  He huffed and moved to go check on him, only to stop half way through standing up when Dean came back. 

He’d gone through all of Castiel’s clothes and found the nicest ones that fit him.  A white button shirt with the sleeves rolled up that he had attempted to tuck into the dark faded jeans Castiel didn’t know he had.  He’d also made an effort to brush his hair, going from mussed up spiky tufts to a soft fauxhawk.  The fact that he’d taken a bath the night before was also working in his favor.

A solid minute passed and Castiel hadn’t breathed or blinked once, completely transfixed by the man standing in front of him.  He’d thought Dean looked nice in his casual clothes before, but this… Castiel was having a hard time forming words at the moment.  It wasn’t until Dean was right in front of him and holding his face that Castiel came back to his senses.

“What?” Castiel bleated.

“Okay?”

“Um… Yeah, yes.  I’m fine,” Castiel nodded.

“Sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Castiel straightened up and went to grab his keys as he headed for the door, all the while flicking his eyes back at Dean.  Dean was a little wary of his glances, unsure if he was really okay, but when they got to the truck, he’d figured it out.  He sat there trying to keep a smug grin to himself as Castiel started the truck.

Castiel drove into town, intent on just driving around until one of them pointed out a restaurant.  Or rather, until Dean did.  It was his idea after all, plus Castiel found himself looking at Dean more than any restaurant they passed.  Then he started to realize Dean was practically peacocking under the attention and resolved to keep his eyes off him, if only a little more.

Eventually Dean pointed out a place as they passed it.  It didn’t look even remotely busy for being Valentine’s, which was probably why Dean picked it.  Castiel circled back around and parked, hopping out the truck before Dean had a chance to open the door.  He gave him a dirty look for not waiting, but shrugged it off.

The restaurant was on par with the Roadhouse, both in what it served and the lack of patrons.  But it was still nice.  They were seated quickly and given menus; Castiel didn’t miss the flash of frustration that darted across Dean’s face.  Castiel opened his menu, but honestly watched Dean more than he read what they had.  Dean quietly mouthed the words he struggled to make out, scrunching his face up when phonetics played tricks on him.  There were a few things he gave up on trying to read and moved on, eventually coming to a section with fewer words; a section that just said what the meal was, without all the comments and lines meant to promote it. 

Castiel smiled to himself and flipped through the menu, deciding on a burger.  That was always a good choice, in his experience.  When the waitress came over, he was about to ask for a few more minutes, since it looked like Dean was still trying to figure what he wanted.  But Dean closed the menu and nodded at Castiel to order. 

“I’ll just have the sirloin burger,” Castiel ordered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean breathe a sigh of relief.  Castiel tilted his head just slightly as the waitress turned to Dean.

“The same,” Dean smiled.

The waitress wrote down the simple order and went back to the kitchen.

“Thought was going to have to say whole s-sentence,” Dean commented, “Thought said ‘sir lion’.”

Castiel snorted, imaging what would’ve happened if he’d asked for that.  Dean rolled his eyes at Castiel and sat back.

“If it makes you feel better, I used to think that’s what it said,” Castiel offered.

“Little bit.”

“Out of curiosity, what made you want to do something for Valentine’s?”

“Hol-holiday, right?  Always do something for holiday.”

“You do?”

So far, Castiel only knew of Thanksgiving and New Year’s.  But he attributed those to Jessica.

“Big holidays, not like, um… Prez-i-dent day?” Dean tried, “Plus want to do something different.”

Castiel perked up a little at that.

“Thought y-you might get bored.  Always at home w-with me,” Dean mumbled.

“Not a single moment has been boring with you,” Castiel replied truthfully.

A rosy tint crept over Dean’s cheeks and the tips of his ears as he ducked his head to hide both it and the smile on his face. 

A few minutes later, the waitress came back with their food.  Castiel could tell Dean was glad eating with his hands was justified in this case, but he was a little annoyed that he couldn’t just wolf it down.  It didn’t stop him from eating a little faster than Castiel, but Castiel took his time.  Being on a date was actually kind of nice, he’d never been much for them before. 

While they ate, Castiel asked what movie Dean was planning on, if he knew of any.  He did know of a couple that were out, but he had no idea what times they were or which theater was playing what.  But he figured it’d be kind of fun to just figure it out later.

The waitress came back with their bill and of course Castiel was left to pay it.  Dean grimaced at that and he could see the gears turning in his head.

“If you suggest that we dine and dash, I’m going to say no,” Castiel commented.

“Not that,” Dean huffed.

Castiel quirked an eyebrow at him as he tucked the money in the bill fold with the receipt.  Dean didn’t give any further explanation, leaving him suspicious.  He shrugged, figuring he’d find out soon enough anyway.  He left the bill on the table, not needing change, and stood up.  Dean got up quickly and stepped in front of Castiel to catch both the restaurant door and open the truck door for him.  It was kind of cheesy, but he wasn’t going to complain.  Dean was trying at least.

Castiel pulled out his phone and looked up movie times for the closest theater.  He named off a few of the movies starting soon; most of them being what Dean had said.  They ended up deciding on _Jupiter Ascending_ , which neither of them knew much about. 

The drive to the theater was quick and Castiel started for the ticket booth, but Dean caught him by the elbow and led him away from it.

“What’re you doing?”

“Watch movie,” Dean answered.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean as he followed him around the side of the theater.  They came around to an unmarked, locked door and Castiel eyed Dean.  He let go of his elbow and kneeled down, searching for something along the ground.

“What’re you doing?” Castiel asked again.

Dean didn’t reply, he just grinned when he found what he wanted; two small pieces of metal.  He straightened up a bit and started picking the lock.  Castiel’s jaw dropped as he watched Dean pick the lock in less than thirty seconds.  Dean pulled the door open and held it open, motioning for Castiel to enter.

“How did— How?” Castiel gaped.

“Lots prac-tice.”

Castiel stared for a second longer before shaking his head and walking inside.  He followed Dean again as he moved quietly down the empty halls only employees were allowed in.  If Castiel was alone, he’d have no idea where to go and would probably end up in the break room where there were people.  Evidently, Dean had done this enough to know where to go.  They came to the end of the hallway to another door and Dean cracked it open, checking for anyone on the other side.  With it being clear, he held the door open again.  At that point, it was as simple as walking to the theater room the movie was in.

They walked in just as previews were ending and took a seat in the middle section; after a short dispute about whether front or rear was better.  The movie started out well enough, but quickly turned into a very young-adult sci-fi.  He couldn’t take it seriously, even less so when Channing Tatum’s character came on.  He couldn’t help but snicker at being some kind of humanoid with wolf DNA spliced in while a skinwalker was right next to him.  He whispered little jokes about it to Dean, who seemed torn between laughing and being slightly offended. 

All in all, the movie was both good and terrible.  If he’d gone expecting a good storyline and character development, he’d have been disappointed.  The movie was more or less a show of spending on special effects.  If his goal had been to just enough all the effects, he would be thoroughly pleased.  Which seemed to be the case for Dean, he talked about the whole way home.

By the time they made it home again, Castiel almost felt like a teenager at the end of a date.  He felt sheepish and love-struck.  Being fueled by those feelings, he stopped Dean at the door and roped his arms around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss.  Dean was surprised by it, but was quick to comply.  When Castiel pulled away, Dean tilted his head at him.

“It was a good night out,” Castiel shrugged.

Dean studied him for a second before leaning in for another kiss; Castiel immediately knew where this was going.  He blindly reached for the door knob, pushing it open as Dean pressed him towards it.  He stumbled a bit on the threshold, but Dean didn’t let him fall.  Dean crowded him backwards as he undressed him, less concerned with his own clothes.

As much as Castiel liked Dean in them, he wasn’t going to be the only one naked.  He made short work of the buttons on the shirt and pushed it off his shoulders.  Both of them had started for each other’s pants when the arm of the couch buckled Castiel’s knees.  He yelped and pulled Dean down with him in effort to save himself, which resulted in both of them on the couch. 

Dean gave a breathy laugh as he pulled himself back, taking Castiel’s pants with him.  He flung them aside and started to crawl over him.  But Castiel had another idea in mind.  He stopped Dean and squirmed out from under him, pushing at his chest to get him to sit on the couch.  Dean watched him curiously, lifting his hips when Castiel tugged on his jeans.

Dean reached forward, grabbing Castiel’s hips and bringing him close.  Castiel gave him a quick kiss and pulled away again.  He brought his hand to his mouth and sucked on his fingers, watching the way Dean’s eyes dilated at the site.  He reached behind himself to start prepping himself.  He didn’t have any lube, so it was the next best option.  But he wouldn’t leave Dean hanging in the mean-time, he was already almost completely hard just from watching Castiel.

Castiel slid off Dean and kneeled on the floor, moving awkwardly as he did so.  He kissed down Dean’s length, flattening his tongue and licking at the base.  Dean whined and rolled his hips forward.  At that, Castiel lifted his head and took him in his mouth.  He bobbed his head a few times, taking in as much as he could stand.  Then he just stayed there for a moment, trying to will himself to relax and swallow more.  Reflexively, he did swallow around Dean.  He heard a desperate whimper and saw Dean dig his fingers into the cushions and smiled around his cock. 

He slid back to the head of his cock and ducked his head back down, pushing himself farther.  Castiel screwed his eyes shut as Dean’s cock pushed down his throat while let out a loud, but stifled moan.  Castiel pulled off the split second his gag reflex started and sat back, breathing deeply and looking up at Dean.  His face was utterly desperate and begging.  There was a sense of pride in his effect on Dean. 

Castiel leaned forward again, gently wrapping his fingers around Dean’s cock and pumping slowly while he licked around the base.

“Please…” Dean whined.

He canted his hips up, wanting Castiel to go down again.  Castiel licked one more time and let out a breathy laugh.

“Your knot is already starting,” Castiel commented, blushing at the words, “Are you sure you’d rather…?”

Castiel glanced down at Dean’s cock, then nodded his head back.  He’d rather not have been prepping himself for nothing.  Dean whimpered again, like it was the most agonizing decision, before shaking his head and grabbing Castiel’s shoulders.  He hauled him up, swatting his hand away from his ass and manhandled him to straddle his lap.

“Thought so,” Castiel smirked.

Dean shot him a dirty look and grabbed his hips.  Castiel braced his hands on Dean’s shoulders, lining himself up over Dean’s cock and slowly sinking down.  Dean groaned with impatience, earning a smug grin from Castiel.  He scowled up at Castiel and bucked his hips, burying himself to the hilt and punching a gasp from Castiel.  Dean loosened his grip and rubbed apologetic circles with his thumbs over his hip bones.  Castiel dropped his forehead against Dean’s, taking deep breaths and fighting back the little shocks in his muscles.  Dean tipped his chin up and pressed a soft kiss to Castiel’s lips.

Castiel relaxed into it, moving his hips in small circles.  Dean moaned at movement, thrusting up slightly on each circle.  Castiel picked up speed and raised himself, dropped down and started a rhythm. 

Dean thrust up with a little more force, panting and gritting his teeth.  He met Castiel on every movement, but still tried to go faster; though sitting didn’t allow much for that.  Castiel tried to compensate and fucked himself faster on Dean’s cock.  Dean leaned his head back and closed his eyes with a groan as he felt his knot press against Castiel’s hole.  Castiel came down with more force, taking the growing knot and popping off it with each upward movement.  He bit his lip as it became more difficult with every thrust, but he was determined to be knotted and forced himself down one more time.  He moved to lift again, but was caught on Dean’s knot.

At that, he felt Dean come and flood his insides, prompting his own orgasm.  Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s waist, burying his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck.  He could swear he felt a graze of teeth, but the feeling was dismissed when Dean took hold of his cock and started pumping.  Castiel cried out at the combination of Dean milking his already spent cock and Dean still coming inside him.

Castiel slumped forward, hugging his arms around Dean’s neck and quietly pleading.  Once again, he could swear he felt a graze of teeth when Dean brushed his cheek against his.  As Castiel came down, he became aware of his own trembling— shivering.  He hadn’t realized how cool the living room was when they started.  He pressed more of himself to Dean for more warmth, both of them wincing when he pulled on the knot. 

Dean moved his arms up around Castiel’s chest, but it wasn’t going to do much good with Castiel sitting naked in his lap.

“Trust?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded with a muffled hum. 

Dean dropped one arm to support Castiel’s ass, and most of his weight, while the other kept him pinned to him.  He leaned forward and grunted as he stood him, gritting his teeth at the pull.  Castiel sucked in a sharp breath, digging his nails into Dean’s skin.  Dean gingerly started walking towards the bedroom, each step smooth and slow.  It seemed to take forever to get there, but it was worth it; his knot hadn’t even started to go down yet and had actually pulsed another load into Castiel.

Dean stopped at the edge of the bed.  He couldn’t just flop down or crawl in like normal.  He made a face of annoyance and turned around to sit down.  Castiel peeked up at him curiously with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  Dean laid back and wiggled back enough to get his feet up on the mattress, then dug his heels in to push them further.  Castiel snickered into his neck as Dean continued to awkwardly worm his way to the middle of the bed.  He laughed even harder when Dean was presented with the struggle of getting the blankets out from under them. 

It took a good bit of tilting every direction, using one arm to hold Castiel and the other to frantically look for an edge of fabric.  Another minute or two passed before Dean had freed the blanket and was working to pull it up over them.  He tried fishing it up with his foot, which was really his only option, which proved difficult with Castiel on him.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do that in the living room,” Castiel hummed, “At least not when it’s cold.”

Dean huffed and reached as far as he could, flicking his fingers impatiently for the blanket just out of reach.

“Or as long as there’s a blanket within reach,” Castiel teased.

“Help, may-be?” Dean puffed.

Castiel rolled his eyes and sat up, swallowing a moan as he did, and grabbed the blanket.  He curled both his hands into fists and laid down again, dragging the blanket up over them.

“Thank you,” Castiel mumbled.

Dean hummed with a half-smile, hands going to either side of Castiel’s ribs.  He fanned his fingers out and traced them along the arch of the bones, sending goosebumps over his skin.  Castiel shuddered at the feeling and Dean paused for a second before continuing.  Castiel sighed with contentment and snaked his arms back under and around Dean’s neck as he fell asleep.

Castiel slept soundly, but the same couldn’t be said for Dean.  He was restless and growled softly in his sleep.  When it woke Castiel up, he tried to ignore it; it wasn’t the first time.  He yawned and opened his eyes, gently moving his ass to see if they were still tied.  Dean had slipped free, but Castiel remained on top of him, taking one hand and curling it into a fist beneath his chin to support his head.  He watched Dean’s face twitch, noting all the other twitches he could feel beneath him, the way his brow creased and lip curled.  He always wondered what Dean was dreaming about when it happened and was always tempted to ask, but he never did.  Part of him thought that maybe if he did, Dean might clam up like when he’d asked about him suddenly speaking complete sentences.

He watched him for a few more seconds, debating on waking him up out of it or not.  He lazily rolled off Dean and onto his side, moving awkwardly to move Dean’s arm out from under him.  Then he leaned back over him and grabbed his other arm, pulling it closer.  He held both of Dean’s hands in his own and started rubbing slow circles on the backs of his hands.  It had made him relax before and he hoped it would do the same now.

It made Dean flinch at first, then more agitated.  Castiel bit his lip, but continued.  Dean’s movements stilled and the distress began to ease from his face.  He rolled over on his side and scooted closer to Castiel, not once trying to free his hands.  He curled up and put his forehead to Castiel’s face.  Castiel wrinkled his nose and tilted his head up, so Dean’s forehead rested against his chin.

Occasionally Dean still twitched, but it was never anything to indicate a bad dream.  Castiel smiled to himself and closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep again.

               

Castiel woke up again to the feeling of Dean moving away.  He blinked his eyes open, looking around the room in dazed confusion.  It was starting to get light outside, but the sun hadn’t quite made it over the horizon yet. 

“Where’re you going?” Castiel slurred.

“Meet Sam and dad, back to-night,” Dean replied softly.

Castiel squinted at him, piecing things together.  It took his sleep-addled brain a good minute to remember they were hunting Azazel.  Castiel felt a knot in his stomach and pulled a pillow close to take Dean’s place.  Dean crawled on the bed and gave him a peck on the lips, followed by a brief nuzzle and a reminder that he’d promised to come back every night.  Despite that, Castiel still felt like something was going to be different tonight. 

He got out of bed and went to the window to see Dean trotting out to meet Sam.  John must’ve started early without them.  He watched them disappear from sight before going back to bed.  He didn’t have to be up for work for a couple more hours.

When he did get up, his mind was quick to get on the same track of worry and making up scenarios in his head.  Though the thoughts weren’t any different than before, they had more ground to stand on now because Castiel couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different.  Something was going to happen.

All day, Jo and Ash tried to talk to him.  They knew something had been bothering him for a few days and were trying to help; Jo more so than Ash.  He’d taken the hint that Castiel wasn’t going to talk about whatever it was, but still tried once in a while.  Jo remained persistent, but got nothing for it.  Castiel never snapped at her for it, he just evaded questions and changed the subject.  He couldn’t talk to her about it. 

Castiel was granted a brief moment of distraction when he was given his pay check at the end of his shift.  He stopped by the bank and deposited it, transferring the money around to pay the bills when they came and setting some aside to save for the Impala.  He was getting close to having half the payment and being allowed to take it home.  By his guess, one more paycheck would be enough.  He thought about how Dean would react and it just made him all the more excited to give it to him. 

When Castiel got back in his truck, his phone pinged with a message; the screen reading it was from an unknown number.

 _‘Are you doing anything tonight? –Jess_ ’

_‘I wasn’t planning anything until Dean came back.’_

_‘You wanna come over for dinner til then?’_

Castiel didn’t think about it for more than a second.  Having dinner with Jessica would give him someone to talk to about his gnawing worries.  On top of that, Jessica probably needed someone to talk to as well.

_‘Sure, what time should I come over?’_

_‘Whenever you want :) ‘_

He decided he may as well go over there now.  Going home would be a waste of time and gas, plus it was just after dinner time now.  He texted her to let her know he was on his way and stuffed his phone in his pocket. 

He was at Sam and Jessica’s apartment about a half hour later and texted Jessica again as he was walking to the door.  She opened the door just before he raised his hand to knock and gave a smile of relief as she held the door open. 

“I already ordered pizza, hope that’s okay,” Jessica said.

“Of course.  What kind?”

“Cheese and Italian sausage,” Jessica answered.

“That actually happens to be one of my favorites.”

“Perfect, then.  It should be here in a couple minutes.”

Castiel noticed a bottle of wine sitting on the table, next to a half full wine glass.  Jessica glanced away sheepishly and ran hand through her hair.

“It’s been a long day,” Jessica commented.

“Yes, it has,” Castiel agreed, “I’ve...had a sinking feeling all day about something.”

“Oh good, I’m glad it’s not just me,” Jessica sighed, “I mean, I always get kinda worried when they leave.  But this is just so different.”

“How often do they leave?” Castiel asked.

“Just a couple times a year,” Jessica shrugged, “But in the time I’ve known them, they’ve never— hunted people.  Let alone anyone who’s hunting them.”

Castiel opened his mouth, but was cut off by a knock at the door.  Jessica excused herself and went to answer it for their pizza.  She came back with the box, setting it on the table before going to grab napkins from the kitchen.

“I’ve haven’t done the dishes today,” Jessica laughed, “So, napkins it is.”

She handed him a few and sat down on the couch, opening the box and taking a slice.  Castiel followed suit.

“I mean, I really can’t argue against it.  I think Azazel’s more ‘monster’ than they are,” Jessica continued, “And I’m glad they managed to convince John to be more smart and careful about handling it.”

“But that doesn’t eliminate all the danger,” Castiel added.

“Exactly!”

“I’m glad Dean’s come home every night, though.  At least I can sleep easier then.  I assume Sam has too?”

“Oh yeah, I’d go out hunting for him if he didn’t.”

Castiel quirked a smile, thinking he’d do the same.  Silence fell over them for a few moments before Castiel spoke up.

“How did you and Sam meet?”

Jessica snorted, almost spilling her wine.  She wiped her mouth and shook her head at the memory.

“I, uh, dropped some books on his head,” Jessica grinned.

“…How?”

“I had just started working at the library then and was trying to put some books back on the top shelf.  I thought I could reach without a stool, mostly because I didn’t want to go back and get one,” Jessica said, “So, I kinda jumped and shoved the books back in their spots…and knocked off the ones on the opposite side.”

Castiel gave a little flinch.

“Yeah, three books fell.  They weren’t dictionaries or encyclopedias, thank god.  But I felt so bad.  I wanted to make it up to him, but he wouldn’t let me.  He was little distant at the time.  But he kept coming back to the library, pretty often actually,” Jessica recounted, “And asked me out about two months later.”

“When did you find out he was a skinwalker?”

“On our fourth date.  I kept hearing a wolf howling and thought it was weird because there’s no wolves out here.  Turned out to be Dean getting annoyed with Sam not answering, so all of a sudden this giant dire wolf showed up and scared the living shit out of me.”

Dean had been surprised to see Jessica then.  He’d frozen in place, unsure of what to do at that point.  Sam had no idea either.  Jessica had been the only one to react, crying and panicking in fear of the creature in front of her.  Sam had tried act like he didn’t know it was his brother and that he was brave, trying to scare him off.  Either Dean didn’t get the hint or he just refused, she wasn’t sure.  Eventually it boiled down to Sam ranting to the wolf, just like a little brother complains to their older brother about no privacy or having their own life.  Dean argued back in short barks and growls. 

Jessica had thought she was going crazy at that point and was in the midst of walking off.  Sam had caught her and pleaded her not to leave, to let him just explain.  Out of slight hysteria, she’d stayed and listened.  If anything, afterwards she confirmed with herself that she was crazy.  It took a week or two for her to come to terms with it.

Castiel commented it sounded a little bit like a young-adult novel.  Jessica laughed and shook her head; he wasn’t wrong. 

She kept telling him stories about things Sam had done and, likewise, Castiel told her about Dean.  He didn’t have near as many stories, but each one seemed to surprise her and make huff that Sam had never done that.  The more they talked, the more it became apparent Sam was more eager to live a civilized life than Dean was.  But both of them seemed alright with it and it actually worked out.  Castiel liked being away from big cities and all the people whereas Jessica wanted to move closer to one.

By the time they’d run out of stories, Castiel realized it was starting to get late.  Both Sam and Dean were probably on their way home now and Castiel wanted to be back before Dean.  He helped Jessica clean up what little mess they’d made and offered to take the pizza box out to the dumpster, since they’d discovered it wouldn’t fit in the small garbage can.  He took it out and tossed it, hurrying to his truck and making a beeline for home.

Some of his worries started to come back, but not nearly as bad as they had before.  When he got home and opened the door, Dean wasn’t there.  He bit his lip and took a deep breath, telling him he’d be home soon.  Castiel contemplated taking a shower in the mean time, but he didn’t want to be in the middle of one when Dean came in.  He’d just interrupt again.  Not that any interruptions had been bad, but Castiel wanted to actually get clean in a reasonable amount of time.

A few minutes went by and Dean wasn’t back yet.  It made Castiel a little antsy, but he decided to take a quick shower to help calm himself back down.  It was probably one of the shortest showers he’d taken in a long time.  Castiel poked his head in the living room to see if Dean was there, he wasn’t, and went to get dressed.  He couldn’t help but chew his lip anxiously as the thoughts from before all came back again.  He strode back into the living room; nothing had changed.  

Castiel was almost wracked with worry now.  It was past midnight and going into the ungodly hours of the morning and Dean still hadn’t come back yet; he’d never back later than around eleven.  He paced around the house anxiously, trying to think of a _good_ reason Dean wasn’t back.  There weren’t any good reasons, the best was that they were currently held up in a fight with Azazel.  Would they jump on a fight or come home first?  From what Dean had said their father’s stance was, they’d probably jump on a fight.

Castiel clenched his jaw and ground his teeth, tucking his arms around himself.  Any thoughts of going to bed never even crossed his mind; no thoughts of any distractions came to him.  He gave an exasperated groan, scratching at his head and striding over to the window for the umpteenth time.  He pressed his face to the glass, cupping his hands around his eyes and stared out.  He mentally willed for Dean to come walking out of the darkness, but there was nothing.  Castiel swore under his breath and turned away from the window, going back to his pacing.

Another hour ticked by and he felt his legs getting heavy.  When they were too tired to hold him up anymore, he checked the window one more time.  Still nothing.  He groaned, rubbing his eyes and collapsing onto the couch.  Castiel fished his phone out of his pocket and checked the time, _2:39am_.  He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly and letting his phone fall to the floor.  He rolled on his back, folding his arms and glared weakly up at the ceiling.  Sleep started to pull at him, but he refused to sleep until Dean was home; until he knew Dean was safe. 

Castiel huffed and turned on his side, feeling around for his phone again and picked it up, opening the texting menu. 

_‘Has Sam come back yet?’_

Hardly thirty seconds passed before his phone pinged with a reply.

_‘No.  Has Dean?’_

_‘No.’_

Castiel let his phone hit the floor again and went back to staring at the ceiling.  Sleep called for him again and he tried to resist, but at some point, sleep won.

But it was a restless and light sleep.  A feather light touch to his face had him bolting upright in a panic.  He looked around frantically, finding Dean kneeling beside him.

“What the hell?!” Castiel blurted.

Dean ducked his head, the tiniest whimper escaping him.  Castiel opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat.  He rolled off the couch, throwing his arms around Dean’s neck and squeezing his eyes shut to stop tears of relief.  Dean returned the hug with nearly crushing force, rubbing his face against Castiel’s.  There was regret and sadness in his movements, but it was overshadowed by an aggressiveness Castiel couldn’t quite place.  He let Dean continue for a few more seconds before pulling back as much as Dean would allow.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked.

He didn’t answer, instead bringing Castiel close again and moving the both of them back up on the couch.  He started rubbing and nipping again and Castiel was tempted to just melt into it, but there was something nagging at him.

“Dean,” Castiel stated, “What’s wrong?”

“Nuh-thing,” Dean mumbled, carrying on.

Castiel pried himself free and glared back at Dean with as much intensity as he could muster.  Dean went to pull him back, but he put his arm out and kept it stiff to resist.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel insisted.

He could see the cracks in Dean’s expression forming as he dropped his head again.  He slid his hands down to rest at Castiel’s hips, rubbing his thumbs over his hip bones.  Castiel relaxed a bit, bringing his own hands to Dean’s.  He lowered his head to meet his eyes, but Dean avoided eye contact.

“Dean…” Castiel pressed.

“…watching you,” Dean muttered.

Castiel felt the hairs on his neck stand up.

“What?” Castiel breathed.

“Was watching you,” Dean repeated, “Azazel watching.”

Castiel felt the air punched out of his lungs.

“Went to find.  Could not.  Was coming home and saw t-truh-ck at end of, um…”

“The driveway…?” Castiel whispered.

Dean nodded, expression crumbling further.  Castiel let Dean hug him close again, feeling himself going numb.  Azazel had been watching him from the end of his own driveway for who knows how long.  He could see everything he was doing and Castiel was completely unaware of it.  He could’ve broke in and taken him hostage until Dean came back, just snuck in when Castiel fell asleep.

Castiel felt sick as a slight tremor rocked through his body.  He clung to Dean tighter, trying reign his fear back under control. 

“W-what did you do?” Castiel asked quietly.

“Scare and chase,” Dean answered.

He hadn’t seen or heard anything outside, maybe it had been when he was asleep.  Castiel shuddered again at the thought.

“Far ‘way now,” Dean tried comforting, “Run for miles.”

It was somewhat of a comfort, but not quite enough.  Castiel buried his head in the crook of Dean’s neck, taking deep breaths.

“How soon are you…are you going to— kill him?”

“Toh-morrow,” Dean stated, “You and Jess in too much danger now.”

Castiel drew in a ragged breath, nodding slightly without lifting his head.  Dean nudged his face with his own, prompting Castiel to look up.  He started pressing kisses to his check and jaw, nuzzling him in between each one.  Castiel did his best to focus on just the feeling of Dean, telling himself this was the only night he’d be scared.  It would be over tomorrow and there’d be nothing to worry about again.  It would probably even be over and done with in just a couple hours, finding where Azazel was would take the longest.

Castiel suppressed a yawn, fighting off the tiredness coming back for him.  He let Dean move him around to gather him up in his own arms and carry him down the hall.  Dean laid him down on the bed, throwing the covers up over him, but not crawling into bed with him.  Castiel pushed the blankets back and turned over to look at Dean.

“Sleep, will stay up.  Watch.”

He was too tired now to object it.  He wanted Dean to come to bed for comfort, but the idea of him staying up to keep watch was almost equally as comforting.  Castiel just nodded with a sigh, bringing the covers back up and falling asleep within seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly idk what happened, time ran away from me so fast. like i feel like the last update was a week ago and then i realized no it was almost a month...again...  
> but hey, shit's about to go down. now i gotta wonder, should i go with the semi-original ending i had planned or should i go with this crazy idea i had the other night that actually scared me awake and gave me a more serious case of feels?


	17. Fire Away

Castiel slept peacefully, despite the nightmarish dreams.  The knowledge that Dean was there protecting him seemed to keep the nightmare’s fear at bay.  The nightmares has started off with an outside view of his house, then faded between himself doing menial things and an image of Azazel watching from outside his mind had come up with.  As it continued, everytime the nightmare shifted to Azazel watching him, there seemed to be something different about his house.  Following that, there would then be something different about the inside.  Like his house was turning into a different building.  It took nearly a dozen shifts for him to realize what it was beginning to look like.

Sam and Jessica’s apartment.

If Azazel had been watching him, who’s to say his suspected accomplice wasn’t watching Jessica?

Castiel’s eyes snapped open as he woke up with a start.  He scrambled up and threw the blankets back, turning towards Dean who seemed completely oblivious to him waking up.  He sat tense by the window and kept his eyes fixed on something outside.

“Dean—“

“Some-thing wrong…” Dean interrupted.

From the sound of it, it was just a nagging feeling Dean had that he couldn’t place.

“What if Jessica was being watched too?”

He saw Dean bristle just before he whirled around and ran out of the room.

“Dean, wait!”

“Come!” Dean ordered.

Castiel swung his legs over the bed and took off after Dean, reaching his bedroom door just as he heard the front door swing open and hit the wall.  He didn’t bother with any shoes or a jacket as he ran to keep up with Dean, he only snatched up his truck keys.  He haphazardly shut the door behind himself as he made a beeline for the truck.

Dean hadn’t waited for him, Castiel could barely see the wolf hitting the far end of his driveway.  Castiel jumped in his truck and immediately threw it in gear, not even giving it half a second to warm up before he peeled around and sped down towards the interstate.  Dean was already a good distance ahead of him, but it only took him a few seconds to catch up. 

Even with the situation at hand, Castiel still found himself surprised and a little shocked at how fast Dean was running; nearly as fast as the speed limit.  Dean glanced sideways at Castiel when he caught up and slowed enough for Castiel to get in front of him.  Castiel craned his head around, trying to see where Dean had gone.  He flinched and dropped his jaw when Dean suddenly jumped up onto the tailgate.  He scrambled and wiggled, having centered himself on the tailgate, but managed to pull himself over it and into the trunk bed.  Dean looked at Castiel and barked loud enough to be heard over the wind and inside the cabin, prompting Castiel to turn his attention back to the road and speed up.

He slowed down when he came into town, only to have Dean start barking impatiently at him.  He sped up a little and Dean fell quiet.  For a moment, he thought he was going quick enough to appease Dean, but when he glanced in the rearview mirror, he saw Dean’s gaze was fixed on something off to the side.  Castiel turned the same direction and could see a deep orange glow above the rooftops of other buildings.

Castiel hit the brakes, jerking the truck to a stop and throwing Dean off balance.  Castiel winced as he heard his body hit the cab, then the bed of a truck.  He opened his mouth to apologize, but was interrupted by the quick scratches of Dean getting up and leaping out of the truck.

Castiel cursed and whipped the truck around the corner, going straight for glow; Dean had already disappeared from sight.  He took two more turns before he could see red and blue lights flashing in front of the source of the glow.

The entire complex was up in flames.

Castiel came to a stop, at the order of a policeman, and stared slack-jawed at the fire swallowing the apartments.  Even in his truck, he could feel the heat of the fire making the winter night feel like summer.  He reached blindly for the door handle, missing it a few times before he managed to grab it and open the door.  He all but fell out of the truck and started forward, only to be stopped by the policeman once again.

“Sir, you need to get back in your vehicle—“

“No, my friends live there and…and I think m-my boyfriend ran inside…” Castiel forced out.

It felt strange to actually call Dean his boyfriend outloud.

“Nobody’s ran inside, sir.  The only think besides the firemen to get near the fire are a couple of very large wolves,” the officer spoke, “Wildlife services has already been called to capture them.  Unless your— _boyfriend_ went in before the fire, he’s not there.”

Castiel swallowed thickly, Dean was trying to get inside the fire.  He glanced around quickly, hoping to catch a glimpse of him stalking around in the bushes or in a stand-off with police or firemen, but he didn’t see anything.  Castiel started forward again; this time the officer stood in his way and gave him a push back.

“ _Sir_ , it’s not safe.  You need to get back in your vehicle and go to safer place away from here.”

“I can’t do that—“

“It’s not an option, get back in your vehicle.”

Castiel licked his lips, shifting his weight and considered disobeying.  Before he made his decision, he saw another officer approaching and subconsciously shrank back a little.

“What’s the problem here?” Sheriff Mills asked, “…Castiel?”

Castiel let out a breath of relief that it was her and she recognized him.

“He refuses to get back to safer location,” the officer replied dryly.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m just worried about my friends who live there, one of them is my boyfriend’s brother and I think he ran inside—“

“I already told him no one’s gone inside,” the officer interrupted.

“I can handle this,” Sheriff Mills snipped.

The officer set his jaw and flashed Castiel a dirty look before walking away.  Sheriff Mills watched him go and waited until he was out of ear shot to speak again.

“He is right, no one’s gone inside.  Well, no humans.  Pretty sure your problem wolf ran in there,” Sheriff Mills said, “Singer’s on his way in case it comes out.”

Castiel’s breath hitched.

“If you’re worried about your friends, I can take you over the ambulances.  Everyone who’s been rescued is over there.”

“Is anyone still inside?” Castiel asked.

“I’m not sure.  Paramedics are the ones getting head counts and figuring out who was home and who wasn’t.”

Castiel nodded dumbly and Sheriff Mills held her arm out to direct Castiel towards the ambulances.  She walked alongside him; she kept her eyes on the fire, but Castiel glanced between the fire and the emergency vehicles all around him.  He was barely aware they’d stopped walking and that she was talking to him again.  He only caught the end of what she was saying, telling him to stay there.

He nodded again and circled around the paramedics checking out the residents, but he didn’t see Sam, Jessica, or Dean.  He chewed on his lip and saw a paramedic who’d just dismissed someone and took it as a chance to talk to him.

“Do you need help?” the paramedic asked.

“Um, yes.  I’m trying to find out if someone’s been a-accounted for?”

The paramedic picked up a clipboard with several sheets pinned to it.

“What’s the name?”

“Sam and Jessica.”

“Last name?  Or names?”

“I don’t know…” Castiel mumbled.

The paramedic sighed as he scanned down the list.  He flipped the page over and continued searching for the names, then flipping the page again.

“I have a Jessica Moore, but no Sams,” the paramedic spoke, “And she’s not checked off yet.”

Castiel’s mouth fell open and he whipped his head towards the fire again.  He flinched when a window blew out and felt his heart swell up in his throat.  He didn’t tear his gaze from the flames, even as the paramedic grabbed him by the shoulders and moved him to sit down.  The paramedic was trying to talk to him, but Castiel wasn’t listening.  The paramedic lightly smacked his face to get his attention, but he only got Castiel’s attention for a second.  He glanced at the man and turned his eyes back to the fire, though he was listening now.

“Are you alright, sir?”

Castiel nodded once.

“Do you feel dizzy or nauseous?”

He thought for a moment, paying more attention to himself.  He could feel himself swaying slightly and a pit in his stomach.  He nodded once again.  The paramedic called something to another one and wrapped a blanket around Castiel, then putting a bottle of water in his hands and ushering him to drink from it.  Castiel started to raise his hand, but then decided he didn’t want to drink anything.  The paramedic tried to convince to drink the water, but Castiel shook his head.

A portion of the roofing caved in, sending sparks and flames higher up in the black smoke.  Castiel’s eyes caught movement at the ground and saw three firemen running from the building.  They came to the firetruck adjacent to the ambulance Castiel was sitting at and ripped their helmets and masks off.  Even from there Castiel could see the fear on their faces and could hear them panting.

“When the hell is Singer getting here?” one barked.

“I don’t know, but he better hurry the hell up.  We’re gonna be in a lot of shit if those things get out and he’s not here.”

“What the hell are they?  Those things are way too big to be dogs or wolves or whatever!”

Castiel stopped breathing.  Dean and Sam were in the fire.

“Should we have helped them?”

“Yes…” Castiel whispered to himself.

“I mean, they don’t deserve to burn to death, do they?”

“What were they even doing in there in the first place?”

Castiel tuned them out at they continued to go on about the creatures in the fire, they weren’t saying anything else helpful.  At least, until one of them turned and pointed at something.  Castiel followed where the fireman was pointing and saw a utility truck with the wildlife logo printed on the side pulling up.  Without thinking, Castiel shrugged off the blanket and slowly got to his feet, starting towards Bobby’s truck.

He saw Bobby get out of the truck and go around to get something out of the bed as Sheriff Mills came up to him, no doubt to explain what was going on.  A chorus of shouts and yells stopped Castiel in his tracks and drew everyone’s attention back to the building just in time to see two masses crash through a door, followed by a blaze of fire.  Both of them collapsed to the ground for a moment, spurring Castiel to start quickly towards them.

Someone caught him by the shoulder as they got up, stopping him from getting past any of the emergency vehicles.  Castiel looked around frantically, seeing Bobby stamp his foot and dig through the bed of his truck while other officers reached for their weapons.

“No… No, you don’t have to do that!” Castiel yelled.

He was bustled backwards, completely ignored.  He whipped his head around, yelling again for anyone who might listen as Sam and Dean got to their feet.  Any armed officer took aim at them as Bobby moved to the front, barking orders at different officers for some plan he’d just come up with.  Castiel lunged forward.

“Bobby, wait!”

“Boy, back up!  Gonna get yourself shot!”

“Bobby, don’t— You don’t have to do that, just let them go!”

“I can’t do that, they been causin’ problems and no one’s sure what they are.  They can’t be runnin’ around if we can help it.”

Castiel bit his lip and snapped his head back in their direction, seeing them moving again and coming straight for the emergency vehicles.  Bobby shouted another order, prompting everyone to take aim.  They weren’t orders to kill, not exactly, but he never said to not use lethal force either. 

As they came closer, Castiel could see Sam was carrying someone— Jessica on his back.  Both of them became aware of the threat in front of them and slowed down, Dean moving in front of Sam to act as something of a shield. 

“Bobby, they’ve got someone.  You can’t shoot, you might hit them!” Castiel argued.

Bobby grimaced, knowing Castiel had a point, and ground his teeth in thought before giving everyone the order to aim lower.  That wasn’t good enough though.  Just as Bobby opened his mouth again to give another order, Castiel took a deep breath and threw himself at him, interrupting the order and knocking him off balance.  Several of the officers lowered their guns and turned towards them as Castiel sat up to try and wrestle the gun from Bobby’s hands.  A couple of them remained aimed at Sam and Dean, but did nothing, while a couple others came to Bobby’s help.

“Boy, what the hell is your problem?!” Bobby shouted.

He gave Castiel a hard shove as two officers hauled him up.  Castiel wretched himself from their grasp and turned to look for Sam and Dean again.  He saw them crouched low just feet from the nearest firetruck, trying to make themselves look less dangerous as they practically crawled to an ambulance.  Everyone watched them in tense silence.  Sam kept his eyes on the ambulance just ahead, while Dean was more anxious and looking around for a threat.

In the flashing lights, Castiel could see their fur was singed and charred; Dean’s blacked across his back.  From the way they walked, they’d burned their paws.  But neither one of them made a sound of pain.  They stopped at the end of the ambulance, staring up at a paramedic.  The paramedic gaped in fear and made a few jerky movements as he stepped down onto the ground to take Jessica.  When he had hands on her and everyone could see they weren’t going to harm him, two other paramedics came to his aid.

They got her on a stretcher and lifted her into the vehicle to start treating her for burn injuries.  Castiel could tell Sam wanted to jump up in with them, or at the very least, to follow them from the hospital.  But Dean nipped at him and butted his head against his shoulder, telling him they needed to leave before anyone decided they were dangerous again.  Sam reluctantly ducked his head and trotted off towards the fire, circling wide around it.  Dean started after him, pausing for a second when he caught a glimpse of Castiel.  He huffed a soft bark at Castiel and looked over his shoulder back at the ambulance.  Castiel looked back as well, then at Dean again just in time to see him running after Sam and disappearing around the otherside of the building.

He’d meet Castiel at the hospital.

Castiel turned to go back to his truck, but Sheriff Mills stepped in his way.

“Castiel…” Sheriff Mills sighed, “You know— Why did you do that?”

“They had Je— a person, I was, um…just worried they were going to shoot her on accident.”

“All these people are very well trained, there was no cause for concern until you assaulted Bobby.”

“And I apologize for that,” Castiel said quickly, looking to Bobby, “I know I should’ve left it to you, I just…”

The words died out in Castiel’s mouth.  There was nothing good he could come up with.

“Some strange stuff seems to be goin’ on with that mutt,” Bobby mused, “And you seemed to be more involved with it than anyone else ever has been.  You know somethin’ about ‘em?”

“No, nothing,” Castiel lied, “Only the one ever skulked around my property.”

“You sure?”

Castiel nodded quickly.

Bobby huffed, still suspicious of him.

“Both you know I gotta ask,” Sheriff Mills started, “But Bobby, do you wanna press assault charges?”

“…Nah, ain’t worth the hassle,” Bobby grumbled, “Probably gonna have to reconsider that car though, boy.”

Castiel lowered his head.  It was better than having to face any jail time, but it still felt like a punch to the stomach.  Castiel mumbled his understanding and Bobby walked away, grumbling something about him being an ‘idjit’. 

“He’s not pressing charges and I have enough on my plate right now, so I’m not going to file a report.  But do not do it again,” Sheriff Mills warned, “Alright?”

“Alright.”

She eyed him for a second before going over to speak with another officer.  Castiel glanced over his shoulder to see the ambulance Jessica was in leaving.  He walked quickly over to his truck and got in.  He sat in his truck for a moment, just focusing on breathing and keeping himself composed.  The fire would be raging for a while longer, the firemen had only managed to contain it and keep it tame enough for any rescues.  He’d only be a hindrance at this point, if he wasn’t before. 

Castiel started his truck and backed up, turning around and heading for the hospital.  He took his time driving, not feeling near as much urgency now.  He knew he wouldn’t be allowed to see Jessica anytime soon, no one would.  But he was hoping Sam and Dean had gone straight there and he could find them somewhere around there. 

As he drove, he wondered how badly they were hurt.  He hadn’t gotten a good look at Jessica at all and couldn’t see any injuries on Sam and Dean, apart from their walk.  He tightened his grip on the steering wheel as his mind went to the worst case scenarios.  That Jessica had fully body burns, smoke inhalation, broken bones…  That she’d die in the hospital.  If she made it that far.

Castiel’s breath hitched and he felt his eyes sting with panicked tears.  He forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down.  If she wasn’t going to make it, Sam and Dean wouldn’t have exposed themselves like that, Castiel reasoned.  He held fast to that thought and pushed the other out of his mind, then thought about the brothers.  Just because he couldn’t see any injuries didn’t mean they weren’t there.  He’d see them translated over their human bodies, he was sure of it.  Again, his mind plagued him with thoughts of vicious burns that could disable or permanently maim them.  Castiel shook his head, reminding himself they could heal quickly or go to the healing stream for more serious injuries. 

Castiel pulled into the parking garage at the hospital, circling through the levels and looking for a parking spot.  Once he found one, it was then a matter of finding his way to a directory desk.  He had no idea where he was going now.  The woman at the desk pointed him in the right direction, though he took a wrong turn and ended up in the wrong wing of the hospital.  Another staff member corrected him and he finally ended up down in the ER.  He asked the man at the desk where Jessica was and lied about his relation to her, saying he was family— her half-brother.  The man rolled his eyes at the obvious ploy, but told him which room she would be in after treatment.  Even family wasn’t permitted to see her for a couple hours.

He took a seat near the door and fidgeted restlessly, glancing around in search of Dean.  The clock on the wall caught his attention; he hadn’t known what time he’d woken up and never took a half second to check the time on his truck’s radio.  _6:03am_.  He hadn’t gotten more than an hour or two’s worth of sleep.  He rubbed his hands down his face, suddenly feeling the exhaustion catching up to him.  He settled into his seat and propped his head up, letting his eyes slid close for just a second.  He’d been on the brink of sleep when he heard the ER doors slide open and looked up curiously.

Castiel was fully awake again at the sight of Sam and Dean limping through the doors.  Castiel darted from his seat and threw his arms around Dean.  Dean tensed and sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, but still returned the hug.  Castiel pulled back, moving his hands to Dean’s shoulders; which apparently didn’t feel too much better.  Castiel let go and took a step back, taking in the sight of the angry, deep red patterns of flesh peeking out from under his clothes.  The palms of his hands were an equally dark crimson with patches of black glistening with blood.  Without seeing, Castiel knew the soles of his feet would be looking the same.  He flashed a look at Sam and saw him in similar state.  Both of them had small streaks of ash and charcoal where they weren’t burned.

Castiel immediately shooed both of them to sit and get off their feet; he then saw he was right and their feet were also bloodied and burned. 

“What— Are you okay?  Why didn’t you go get healed and cleaned up?” Castiel asked.

He wanted to fret over Dean, but was afraid of causing him more pain.  In the back of his mind, he might’ve felt a little bad for focusing on Dean and not both of them equally.

“I wanted to make sure Jess was gonna be okay,” Sam answered.

Dean nodded in agreeance. 

“You both need to get these treated,” Castiel said.

“I know, but Jess—“

“We can’t see her for a few hours,” Castiel interrupted, “Even for being family.  So, in the meantime, please…”

Dean ducked his head, playing with his fingers, then glanced up at Sam.

“Should go to water, not see for ‘while,” Dean shrugged, grimacing at the action.

“I— I guess.  If it’s gonna be hours,” Sam conceded, “No point in suffering this.”

Instinctively, Sam put his hands to the arm rests of the chair to push himself up.  He gritted his teeth and swallowed a whine of pain at the pressure.  Dean reached out and forced him to sit back down as he stood up.  He faltered at the pain that lanced up his legs and lost his balance, falling into Castiel to catch him.  He stood Dean back up right and, like Dean had just done, forced him to sit back down.

“No, neither of you should go there now.  I don’t know how you managed to get here, but you need to be treated somehow _now_ ,” Castiel said.

“How?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

Castiel was surprised at that.

“I mean, I _think_ I’m on Jess’ insurance.  But with— _this_ , she’s gonna need all the money on her policy,” Sam pointed out, “And neither of us have jobs to pay for anything.”

Castiel rubbed at his eyes; Sam was right.

“Fast healer,” Dean commented.

For a second, Castiel wondered how much they’d already healed.  He gently grabbed Dean’s wrist and turned his palm upward.

“Look worse than is.”

Castiel grimaced and hummed.

“At the very least, you can’t be sitting out here with exposed wounds.  I’m fairly sure it’s some kind of health violation,” Castiel compromised.

There was nothing in the lobby for them to cover their burns, though they weren’t willing to cover them anyway.  The clothes they were wearing now were about as much as they could tolerate until they healed more.  With some effort, both of them got up again and walked out of the ER, followed by Castiel, and found a relatively hidden spot around the corner from the doors.  They’d wait there until they could see Jessica. 

Castiel sat down and propped his head up on his hands, elbows braced on his knees, and closed his eyes again to get some sleep.  He heard Dean huff a few times as he tried to settle into a comfortable position, but the burns across his shoulders and back wouldn’t let him.  Castiel peeked one eye open at him as he shifted again and glanced over to Sam, sitting perfectly fine against the wall. 

“…What happened?” Castiel mumbled.

“Burned,” Dean answered.

Castiel rolled his eyes and gave him a tired bitch face.

“He knocked me and Jess out of the way of a falling beam,” Sam supplied.

Castiel shivered and stared at Dean, who made an annoyed sound and resigned himself to leaning forward.  Castiel leaned over and reached up, gingerly hooking his finger in the collar of Dean’s shirt and pulling it back.  All the blood drained from Castiel’s face.  The dark crimson that had been peeking from beneath the shirt undermined the severity of how bad it really was.  The flesh was gnarled and blackened, almost crisped looking.  In a few spots, the texture looked different and Castiel feared he’d been burned down to the bones.  Castiel gasped and recoiled, clamping his mouth shut and resisting the urge to heave.

“Look worse than is,” Dean repeated quietly.

“Dean, there is no way that’s looks worse than it actually is.”

“Not hurt.”

“Dean—“

Sam waved his hand at Castiel and shook his head.  Castiel cocked his head in confusion, trying to understand what Sam was now mouthing at him; but he’d never been particularly good at that.  Castiel sighed and leaned back against the wall, staring at Dean’s back.  He hesitantly reached for Dean’s elbow and gave him a light pull.  Dean went easily with the motion as Castiel guided him to lay on his side and use his lap for a pillow.  He still shifted agitatedly, but relaxed when he leaned more onto his stomach and took the remaining pressure off the burned portion of his shoulder.  Castiel tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes once more.

The next Castiel opened his eyes, it was light out.  He blinked at the brightness, holding one hand up to shield his eyes while they adjusted.  He looked down to see Dean still laying on him.  The dark crimson of his burns was now closer to pink; he was healing quickly.  Castiel dared to move Dean’s collar again to see his back; it was still gnarled and charred, but it now looked more like flesh and had a slightly more even texture.  Castiel looked to Dean’s hands and found him subconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists, rubbing his fingers against the palm of his hand.  Castiel squinted his eyes and leaned forward and saw tiny flecks of burnt flesh and scabbing falling off.  He glanced down and saw him doing something similar with his feet, rubbing them against each other and the concrete.  Those burns had healed enough to reach the point of itching.

He turned his head to see if Sam was doing the same, but he wasn’t there anymore.  He’d probably gone to check on Jessica and they’d let him in.  The rising sun was enough proof that it had been a couple hours.  Castiel moved his leg to shake Dean’s head and wake him up.  Dean grumbled and craned his head around to look up at Castiel.

“I think we can see Jessica now.”

Dean hummed and propped himself up on his elbows, pushing himself to sit up.  He stared at his hands for a moment before wiping them off on his jeans.  Castiel made a pinched face at the stains left on his jeans, but his hands came away looking far better.  They were still a noticeable pink and bleeding in a few spots, but only from losing scabbing, and still looked tender.  Dean repeated the same with his feet after he stood up, bracing himself against the wall.  For a second, he considered rubbing and scratching his back on the brick wall, but thought better of it.  For now.

Castiel stood up and led the way back into the ER and asked again for Jessica’s room.  The man gave them her room number and told them which way to go.  As they walked, Dean was a step or two behind and doing his best to walk normal on tender feet.  Castiel slowed down just enough to stay even with him.  There was a flash of gratefulness and annoyance in Dean’s eyes, but he said nothing about it. 

Castiel pushed the door open and stepped inside.  Sam sat beside Jessica’s bed with his back to them; if he heard them, he didn’t react.  Jessica was sleeping on the bed with at least a half dozen wires attached to screens monitoring her vitals.  Both her arms were wrapped in thick gauze, stained in a few places, that went up and disappeared beneath her gown and reappeared around her neck.  There were a few patches of gauze taped to her face and strips wrapped around her head.  Her hair was wiry and uneven from being burned, a patch behind her ear having been shaved to treat another burn.

“She’s got third degree burns on her left leg,” Sam mumbled, “Second on the other and both her hands... And face.  The rest they said is between first and second.”

Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind.

“They’re gonna have to do a skin graft for her leg,” Sam added.

Castiel dropped his shoulders and walked over to a chair opposite of Sam and sank into it.  Sam wiped at his eyes, rubbing away tears that threatened to spill.  Castiel noticed Sam looked much better, physically.  He was more healed than Dean and must’ve cleaned himself up in the bathroom.

“At least she’s alive,” Castiel tried.

Sam scoffed.

“Yeah… I guess.”

“She’s not…in a coma, is she?” Castiel asked.

“Medically induced.  Just for a day,” Sam answered.

“’Coh-mah’?” Dean repeated.

Sam nodded.

“They, uh, put her to sleep.  She’s unconscious right now,” Sam replied.

“Why?”

“So she can rest.  It’d take too many drugs to get her out of pain right now, they’ll wait until tomorrow to give them to her.”

Dean scowled angrily at the floor and took to scratching and picking at his hands again.

“If you wash your hands, they’ll feel better,” Sam commented.

Dean ground his teeth, but turned and went to the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself.

“Dean’s burns were just as bad,” Sam said quietly.

“What?” Castiel breathed.

“Probably worse because of that beam.  He was pinned down.  I… I had to put her down to try to help Dean,” Sam’s voice trembled, “That was when— when her clothes caught fire.”

Sam clenched his jaw and dropped his head, rubbing at his eyes again.

“I didn’t even know til she started screaming…” Sam choked out, “And Dean was still trapped.”

“Sam… you don’t have to talk about it,” Castiel said softly.

Castiel moved around the bed to sit next to Sam.  He fidgeted for a second before rubbing a comforting hand on his back.  Sam shook his head and drew in a ragged breath.

“I— I abandoned Dean to help Jess.  He got himself out from under the beam.  I should’ve… I shouldn’t have…”

“Sam, that was a terrible situation to be in.  There was no right answer and you had better not blame yourself because of that.”

“It was my fault.  If we hadn’t wasted time stalking like I said, Azazel and that other guy would’ve been dead by now.  Not sitting outside your house and Jess’ apartment,” Sam growled, “The other one, he saw me come back and was trying to get in.  It didn’t work so he ‘smoked us out’.”

“He lit the entire complex on fire to get you out?” Castiel squawked.

“I don’t know if he meant for the whole complex, but yeah.”

“Who is he?”

Sam shrugged helplessly.

Castiel heard the bathroom door click open and turned to face Dean.  He’d taken the time to wash the ash and charcoal off, which made him look a hundred percent better.  Castiel might not have known about the burns if he hadn’t seen them prior.  Dean went to grab Castiel’s previous seat, pausing to look at Jessica and the monitors hooked to her.  He set his jaw and left the chair, coming over to Castiel and wrapping his arms tightly around him, burying his face in the crook of his neck.  He stayed like that for a few minutes, then went back to the other chair and dragged it over.  He dropped down in and scooted it right against Castiel’s and laced his fingers between Castiel’s and used his other hand to hold his arm against him; almost like a child clinging to their parent.

“Dean,” Sam spoke up.

Dean looked to him immediately.

“Dad was right,” Sam forced.

“Damn right I was.”

All three of them jumped at the voice, but Castiel was the only one to face it.  A gruff older man in worn out clothes and an old leather jacket stepped in the room to lean against the wall behind them.  He pursed his lips, giving a sympathetic look at Jessica, then at Sam briefly before it hardened to chagrin and mild anger.  His lip twitched when he looked at Castiel.

“Dad, please…don’t,” Sam mumbled.

“Don’t think I need to,” John grumbled, “But if you boys don’t want anything more to happen—“

John shot a look at Dean and Castiel.

“Then you’ll buck up and listen to me now,” John added.

“I wanna be here when Jess wakes up,” Sam objected weakly.

“Will be,” Dean promised, “Not take long.”

Castiel didn’t miss the look of impatience and annoyance John had when Dean spoke.

“Your brother’s right,” John said, “If we go now, you’ll be back before then.”

Sam sighed and gave a small nod.  Jessica would be in a coma for a day, which was all the more time Dean had said it would take to hunt Azazel down and kill him.  But it might take a little longer now that there was apparently another player in the game.

“I want to help,” Castiel blurted.

“No,” Dean and John barked.

“You’ll just get in the way,” John grumbled.

“Not want to get hurt,” Dean said.

“I won’t.  Get in the way or get hurt, I can take care of myself,” Castiel defended.

“If you want somethin’ to do, stay here.  Watch Jess for Sam.”

“What if something goes wrong?  Wouldn’t having more people be better?”

“Maybe if that person was a skinwalker,” John cut, “What would you even do, huh?”

“I can— be a look out or something, ‘provide cover’,” Castiel argued, “He’s got someone else working with him and they aren’t always together.  Obviously.”

“…Y’got a gun?” John asked.

“At home, yes.”

“Know how to use it?”

“Yes.”

John shifted his weight and rolled his jaw in thought.

“Fine.  I’m not gonna waste anymore time.  Stay out the way and don’t mess anything up.”

John’s decision didn’t make Castiel feel any better.  If anything, it made him feel as anxious as Dean was starting to look.  John didn’t wait for a comment from any of them as he turned on his heels and strode out.

“Not like,” Dean snipped.

“I won’t get involved, I’ll stay back,” Castiel promised.

“Still not like.”

“Dean, please.  I want to help.”

Dean scowled at him, letting out a huff of breath.  He shook his head and walked past him for the door.  Castiel raised his eyebrows at Sam curiously.

“His way of saying ‘fine’,” Sam sighed, “I don’t think it’s a good idea either, but you can make your own choices.”

He stood up and glanced at Jessica, then at Castiel with raised eyebrows; wordlessly telling him that could be him.

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Don’t thank me.”

Castiel followed Sam out and walked quicker to catch up to Dean, tailing right behind his father.  He bumped Dean’s side and took his hand.  Dean quirked his lip in a small, conflicted smile.  The three of them walked straight out of the ER while Sam stayed behind a second.  Castiel heard him telling the woman who took the other man’s place not to tell anyone which room Jessica was in.  No one was allowed to visit her except for them, no exceptions.

“You go get your gun, Dean knows where to go,” John said.

John went in the opposite direction of where Castiel had parked, followed by Sam.  Dean prompted Castiel to lead the way to his truck and to be quick. 

The drive back home was almost completely silent.  Dean kept his fixed on the window the entire time, clearly not happy with Castiel’s choice.  Castiel tried to make him feel better, but nothing worked.  The only thing that would would be Castiel staying back completely.

When they reached the house, Castiel tried to convince Dean to at least run down to the healing water for his back before they left while Castiel went to find his gun.  But he said there wasn’t enough time, even with how fast he could run.  Castiel went through his room and found the pistol in its case beneath the bed.  It was still loaded with a mostly full magazine; the missing bullets had been used to scare Dean before he knew who or what Dean was.  He checked to make sure the safety was on and grabbed a spare magazine, just in case. 

He went back to the living room as Dean was stripping down.  With his back to Castiel, he could see the full size and now lessened severity of the burn over Dean’s back.  It didn’t look lethal or even third degree anymore, but it did definitely still look second degree and still sprawled over his upper back.  Dean kicked off his pants and shuddered, yelping as the burn was agitated by his body twisting and cracking.  He dropped down to all fours, panting at the renewed pain.

“If you think I’m going to ride on your back while it’s still healing—“

Dean cut him off with a bark, twisting his head around towards his lower back.  Castiel gave him a look of disbelief, but walked up to him anyway.  The way the burn translated, it still had short almost stubbly fur and barely reached halfway down his back.  If Castiel was careful and sat more upright than leaned forward, he could avoid touching it.

“Can’t I just follow you?”

Dean shook his head.

“What, is there no roads?”

Dean shook his head again.

Castiel groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.  With a sigh, he opened the front door and swung his arm for Dean to go out.  He shut and lock the door before turning to Dean and hesitating.  Dean yipped at him impatiently.  Castiel took more care than was necessary, or more than Dean thought was necessary, in getting on him.  He went to grab onto Dean’s shoulders for balance, but pulled back when he saw the spot he used was part of the burn.

“This isn’t going to work, Dean.”

Dean growled in annoyance, wiggling his hips.  Castiel picked up the hint and tried to lock his legs around Dean’s waist without interfering with his ability to run.  Castiel leaned forward and braced his hands at the base of Dean’s neck, almost like he was trying to choke him; he couldn’t even get the tips of his fingers close around Dean’s neck.

Dean started off slow, getting a feel for how Castiel moved when he moved, then quickly picked up the pace.  He ran in the opposite direction of town at the same pace as the last time he’d carried Castiel, which Castiel was grateful for.  He wasn’t looking forward to highway speed cold winds whipping him in the face.  Dean stayed on the shoulder of the interstate for nearly two miles before jumping down into the ditch and hunkering down.  Castiel was about to ask what he was doing, but two oncoming cars went by a few seconds later.  Dean checked around for any more cars, then continued on for another half mile and jumped down into the ditch again.  Not to avoid any cars this time, but to start climbing up the rocky slope.

This point of the hillside was the meeting point of two monolithic rocks, forming a crevice that dove much lower than their tops.  Which, again, Castiel was grateful for.  Dean climbed up the bottom of the crevice and squeezed through, working his way through the tight space for several dozen yards before it opened up again and dropped a little to the start of rolling hills with tall, dying grass.  He ran across the fields for another couple miles and slowed down when the edge of a steep hill lined with a couple trees came into sight.  Standing up against one of the trees, Castiel could see Sam and John in their wolf forms.

John looked over his shoulder at them and flattened his ears with a soft growl.  He’d been hoping Castiel would change his mind or that Dean would leave him. 

Without any further interaction, they started down the hill.  It was far steeper than the one behind Castiel’s house and they moved in zig-zags, using protruding rocks and trees to control their descent.  As they came lower, Castiel could see a house with a detached garage sitting at the base of the hill and a long dusty driveway winding away from it and around another hill.  About twenty feet about the roof of the house, Dean stopped and hit Castiel’s leg with his tail.  Castiel climbed off and braced himself against a tree.  Dean gently butted his head against Castiel’s hip, then continued down the hill.  This wasn’t the position Castiel would’ve had in mind for providing cover fire, but he reminded himself that he didn’t know the plan.  It could actually be a good spot.

 

Dean and Sam moved around to the right of the house while John went to the left, none of them so much as snapping a twig or moving a pebble.  Dean crawled up to the nearest window and raised his head just enough to see inside; nothing.  He swept his tail low across the ground to signal he didn’t see anything.  Sam crawled past him to the next window and peered inside.  He watched inside a second longer, but ending up sweeping his tail.  Dean backed up and went to the other side of the house where John was looking in through a window.  Likewise, he saw nothing.  Dean took the next window, still seeing nothing, and John went around to the front of the house for the next window.  Dean waited another minute, knowing it was Sam who was supposed to move next.

Both Sam and John were crouched in front of the house, just barely inside.  Neither of them signaled anything, leaving only the second story and the detached garage to be checked.  Sam and John retreated back up the hill a bit while Dean moved silently over to the garage.  Sam and John used their point on the hill to jump onto the roof, both going stock still as soon as they landed.  If Azazel or his accomplice heard them and got suspicious, they didn’t want to confirm it by moving too soon.  It was the most noise they’d made so far.

Dean had held still, crouched low and waited for any sign of movement in the house.  Nothing happened.  He continued over to the garage, moving the back where a door with a window was.  He glanced back over to Sam and John.  Sam had moved over to the chimney, leaning over the opening and listening down for anything.  John was perched on the edge of the roof and looking down into a window on the second story.  It was far from ideal, but it was the only way to get a look inside without a ladder or making noise by jump-running up the side of the house.

Dean snorted quietly to himself, seeing the window panes were now too dirty to see through.  He dared to stand up against the door and went to wipe one pane with his paw.  The glass cracked under the touch, causing Dean to jump down and sprint to the far side of the garage.  Sam and John had heard it and moved to the center of the roof, huddling down on the side of the apex further from the garage. 

Dean watched the door and held his breath for a minute.  There was still nothing, which was both relieving and suspicious.  He took a few careful steps forward as Sam and John went back to the edges of the house and looking in windows.  He was almost back to the door when he thought he heard something.  He froze in place, one ear perked up and listening closely.  No lights came on, but suddenly the door handle was twisting.  He tensed and ran for cover around the corner again; Sam and John both going for the opposite side of the apex again.

The door opened, but Dean didn’t dare peek around the corner.  Instead he only listened for noise from the door as he crept to the opposite side of the garage to check the front. 

“I think we might have a little company…” a voice purred.

It wasn’t Azazel, it was the other one.  Dean heard him go back into the garage, but he didn’t shut the door.  Dean moved with even more caution now, going back around to the side with the door.  He looked up at the house where Sam and John were hiding and ducked his head once; signaling one of them was here.  Sam crawled back to the end of the roof and leapt back onto the hillside, climbing a little higher for cover and moving alongside it to the garage.  He came down and waited at the corner opposite of the door side as Dean.  He watched the door as Dean went back to the front and up to the garage door.

He stood up on his hind legs to look through the windows lining the top of the door.  He saw the man move around the canopy-covered truck Castiel had seen before and tilted his head when the man stepped down into the floor.  The garage had a basement.  He didn’t go all the way down, Dean could see that much, but what he couldn’t see was what the man was doing.  Dean dropped down and moved further along the door to a window that would give him a better view.  From there, he could see flat metal objects being handed up to him.  He assumed it had to be Azazel down below handing him things.  Dean hopped down again and turned to the house, ducking his head twice this time.

John did the same as Sam had and went to Dean’s previous corner as he went to Sam’s side.  The three of them quietly closed in on the door.  John was the first to look inside, he couldn’t see more than his knees below the truck; he was still hunched over, taking whatever Azazel was handing up from the basement.  John took light steps inside, followed by Sam and Dean.  John and Dean moved around towards the front of the truck while Sam waited, hidden behind the rear. 

The man took a few more pieces of metal, tossing them into a pile at the truck’s rear passenger side.  He straightened up then and went to the pile, making Sam shrink back.  Azazel stepped up out of the basement, looking around as he did.  He went over beside the other man as he knelt, picking up the metal pieces and standing them against each other.  Azazel stood watch as the man worked the pieces; with three pieces now together, they knew they were heavy-grade collapsible cages.

“We’re being watched,” the man hummed with a smile.

Sam panicked, fearing the man had seen his paws and retreated further.

“I think they’ll make themselves known soon,” Azazel thought aloud.

Going with his thoughts, Azazel picked up rifle.  Things were now not going according to plan.  The two shouldn’t be aware of them until they’d attacked.  But they weren’t going to give up, not with finally being this close.  Dean wiggled under the truck and crawled closer to the other man, only moving when the pieces of caging made noise; he’d finished one cage and had started the second.  Sam crept forward again, seeing his brother under the truck and stood just barely out of sight.  Dean glanced back at John, also just out of sight.  He couldn’t see John’s face and John couldn’t see him either; he had his eyes fixed on Azazel.  He quietly stamped his hind leg.

Dean lunged from beneath the truck with a snarl and sank his teeth into the man’s leg, dragging him back under the truck.  Azazel whirled around and aimed where the man’s leg went under the truck.  Just as he went to the pull the trigger, John pounced on him from behind, snapping his teeth on Azazel’s arm; the rifle fired and shot the side of the truck.  The man kicked blindly under the truck, yelling and cursing in pain as Dean thrashed his head back and forth.  He managed to strike his heel in Dean’s eye.  Dean yelped and let go, scrambling back.  At the sound, Sam came around the corner and jumped on the man. 

Azazel waved the rifle and aimed it down behind himself and fired again.  The bullet pierced into John’s leg, causing him to lose just enough grip for Azazel to tear his arm free.  He took aim again quickly and fired again, this time getting John’s shoulder.  John yelped and dashed to the otherside of the truck for cover.  Azazel curled his lip and whipped around, taking aim at Sam and pulling the trigger.  The bullet ripped into his stomach and came out the otherside.  Sam yelped and let go with a whine, running for cover as well.

“You shoot ‘em anymore and we’ll start losing profit,” the man spit.

“Just on those two,” Azazel commented, “But they’ll still be useful.”

The man pushed himself up on shaky legs, falling against the truck and breathing heavy.  He looked down at his mangled leg, flesh rent from bone and bleeding profusely.  Azazel noticed and reached around for something to stem the flow of blood; his own injury wasn’t bad enough to need a tourniquet yet.  He never lowered his gun, even as he tossed a short rope to the other man.

“Oh wonderful…” the man complained.

“Hurry up and tie yourself,” Azazel snipped.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the man grinned.

Azazel rolled his eyes.

“Hurry up,” Azazel repeated, “And finish another cage.  I’d like to take more than one home tonight.”

“As you wish.”

The man grunted as he tied off his leg and went back to work on the second cage.  Azazel spun around in search of any wolves.  He heard a thump on the truck just before Dean was suddenly coming down on his, claws outstretched and mouth wide open in a vicious snarl.  He tackled Azazel to the ground, clamping down on his injured arm.  The other man cursed and picked up a piece of caging and hurled it at Dean, hitting him right on his still healing burn.  He yelped and whined, but refused to let go again.

Another thump from the truck and John was coming down on the other man, biting his shoulder, but losing hold when they hit the ground.  The man picked up another piece of caging and used it to shield himself from another attack.  It barely managed to catch John’s claws as he came at him again.

Azazel thrashed under Dean, struggling to get aim at him.  Dean growled and bit down harder, audibly cracking the bone in Azazel’s upper arm.  Azazel howled in pain and swung the rifle, using the butt to hit Dean repeatedly.

The man twisted the caging off, throwing John off balance, and threw it again at Dean; this time with more force.  The metal struck him in the snout, finally making him let go and giving Azazel a chance to aim again.  The bullet grazed Dean’s as he leapt away, just in time for Sam to come around and bite down on his forearm.  But Sam didn’t have Azazel pinned as well as Dean had, he was still free to aim with one hand.  Dean came back around just in time to knock Sam out of the way and take the bullet himself.

Sam stumbled back and lost his balance.  The other man saw a chance and railed John with the caging, dazing him long enough for him to use the caging to further unbalance Sam and force him into the cage.  The man licked his lips in a sick grin and reached down to lock the cage door.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean coming and used the metal as a shield again, fending off the attack and twisting Dean off. 

John shook his head and lunged, snapping his teeth down on the man’s hand as he reached again for the door.  Dean shoved past them, pawing and biting at the cage door to open it again.  The door swung open and Sam bolted out, narrowly missing sinking his teeth into the man’s already mauled leg.  Before he could turn around, something smacked Dean in the ass hard enough to shove him forward and take Sam’s place in the cage.  The sound of clinking metal immediately followed the door slamming shut.  Dean twisted around in the confining space, ears flat and tail tucked in fear.  He rammed against the cage wall’s, but he didn’t have enough room to gain any momentum.  All he did was rock the cage a little.  He yelped and barked in rising fear and anxiety, but John and Sam were too preoccupied.

Sam had the man up against the truck, gnashing his teeth and clawing in vain; that piece of caging was proving to be effective than the man had previously thought.  John had abandoned him and gone for Azazel, who was barely managing to defend himself by wedging the gun between John’s teeth and forcing him back.  Azazel twisted the gun around, wretching John’s head until he let go, then struck him in the face with enough force to make him spit blood.  He didn’t give John a chance to recover before he hit him again; this time hard enough to knock a tooth out.  Azazel spun the gun again and pulled the trigger, shooting John in the elbow of his foreleg.  John howled in pain and snarled, trying to get up, but faltered on the now twice shot leg.

Azazel kicked him for good measure, then raised the gun at Sam.  Dean howled and raged against the cage in panic, but still made no progress.  Just like with John, he shot Sam in the elbow.  Sam yelped in pain and stumbled back off the man and into the cage.  Dean barked frantically, desperate to help.  Azazel pulled the trigger again, but the gun clicked back at him; out of ammunition. 

“I say we cut our losses,” the man suggested.

“We’ve got them down and out finally, and you want to leave two?” Azazel panted.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m about to lose a leg and bleed out,” the man seethed, “And as much as I love a good torture, I’d like to live to see this paycheck and not spend it on a new limb.  I imagine you feel the same.”

Azazel let out a heavy breath and nodded.  The adrenaline was starting to wear off quickly.  He dropped the spent rifle and waved his hand.  John struggled to get to his feet and snap at Azazel, but all he got was another boot to the face for his efforts.  Azazel went to the back of the truck and opened the tailgate, using his good arm to grab a bar and drag a small ramp down.  Then picked up a chain and strode back over to the cage.

“You’ll still fetch a pretty penny, won’tcha boy?” Azazel grinned.

Dean bit at the bars, hoping to scare him at the very least.  Azazel wasn’t fazed.  He feed the chain through loops on the outside of the cage and pulled the chain over his shoulder to start moving the cage.

Sam moved to get up, only to have the chain whipped across his face.  Azazel repositioned it and continued dragging the cage with a considerable amount of effort.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and start the truck?” Azazel grumbled.

The man rolled his eyes dramatically and rolled along the side of the truck, pushing himself upright and using it for balance as he went around the driver side.  Azazel finally got the cage to sit before the ramp and dropped the chain in exasperation as the other man started the truck and hit the button for the garage door.

“ _Hurry up_ ,” the man mimicked from the driver’s seat.

Azazel shot a tired glare at him, but picked up the chain again.  He didn’t make an effort to drag the cage up the ramp, instead climbing into the bed of the truck and fixing the end of the chain to a pulley mounted to the cab.  He flipped a switch and the chain went taut.  It snapped and clanked harshly as each link slide over the edge of the tailgate, pulling the catch up onto the ramp.  Azazel crawled out before the cage was pulled up completely and stood beside it until it was up.  He slapped the tailgate back up and closed the back of the canopy, hiding the cage from sight.

He went around to the driver’s seat to take over and hadn’t gotten more than two steps before the tail light next to him erupted.  Azazel jumped back, swearing loudly and whipping around.  The glass of the garage door was shattered and gave him a clear view of someone coming for the door.

“Shit,” Azazel hissed, “Shit, shit, shit.”

He ran to the driver’s door and wrenched it open, and all but shoved the other man from the driver’s seat.  The garage door flung open and another bullet clipped the driver door.  Azazel slammed the door shut, threw the truck in gear and floored the gas pedal.  The tires spun in protest against the smooth garage floor, then found their grip and launched the truck forward.  Another bullet shattered the rearview mirror, then the canopy glass before they managed to put any distance between themselves and the shooter.

“Who the hell was that?” the man grumbled.

“Our doggy’s little loverboy,” Azazel drawled, “Might need him for leverage later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did literally 90% of this in one sitting yesterday ;A;  
> but this is (unfortunately) the end of fluff and smut for a while which sucks cuz i wanted to do more of that but i wanted to really drive the plot forward  
> so i'm thinking about doing like a timestamp series of just fluff and smut for this fic, anyone want that? updates wouldn't be frequent, just as i think of scenes i wish would've been in here before this chapter  
> Also fun fact: gray wolves can run between 31 and 37mph so i figured since Dean's a dire wolf and a supernatural creature that he could run at least twice as fast.


	18. Chase of the Highway

Castiel’s body froze up as he watched the truck peel off down the driveway.  As it disappeared around the bend, his heart dropped through his stomach and he lost his balance.  Castiel dropped to the floor, staring wide eyed where the truck disappeared for a good minute before turning to Sam and John.

Sam was gnawing at his leg in an effort to get the bullet out before his flesh started healing over it.  Though by the looks of it, he wasn’t making much progress.  John was doing the same, but having a harder time with it.

“What happened?” Castiel breathed.

John flattened his ears and narrowed his eyes, continuing to try and get the bullets out; more aggressively now.  Sam looked at Castiel and ducked his head, tucking his tail close.  He offered his leg out to Castiel, wordlessly asking for help.  Castiel stalled for a moment, his brain failing him now.  Then he moved stiffly over to Sam and sat beside him, taking his leg in his hand.  If Castiel was in his right mind, he was sure he’d have issues with digging into Sam’s leg to get a bullet out.  But that wasn’t the case.  His mind was going numb as carefully pushed his index finger in the bullet hole.

Sam whined lightly at the discomfort of Castiel gently probing to find the bullet, then adding his thumb in to pinch it.  The bullet came out relatively easy and Castiel held it in his hand for a second.  He stared at the crumpled, blood-coated metal, tilting his hand to move it around.  The bullet looked to be all intact.  Or as intact as it could be for having hit its target.

Castiel looked over to John to see if he needed the same help, but John growled angrily at the quiet offer.  He chomped harder at his flesh, this time taking a small chunk out.  John dropped it, a small wet smack on the concrete floor accompanied by the light clang of metal.  He went to the other bullet wound just as viciously, this time the bullet falling separate from the flesh.  As soon as the bullet hit the floor, John took off running.  His steps staggered at first, but quickly evened out as he tore down the gravel driveway.

Sam bumped his head against Castiel, nodding his head for him to hop on so they could both chase after the truck and John.  It took Castiel a second to react, but then he quickly scrambled to his feet and threw a leg over Sam’s back.  Sam didn’t wait for him to get settled, he darted forward immediately, desperate to catch up.

As he runs, Castiel can’t help but think he doesn’t like riding on Sam.  He’s leaner and taller, with too long and soft fur.  Castiel likes Dean’s broader, more muscled body and coarser, shorter fur.  The comparison worsens the fear and dread building in his stomach.

They round the bend of the driveway that leads down towards the interstate and Sam takes longer strides, using gravity to his advantage.  Another minute or two and Castiel can see the asphalt of the interstate coming up to meet the dirt and gravel road.  For a brief moment, he wonders if Sam is going to slow down to turn or if plans on running straight across and down the hill on some hidden trail.  He has his answer when he’s nearly thrown over Sam’s head as he digs his paws into the ground and makes a sharp right turn.

 In that instant, Castiel’s glad more Sam’s longer fur.  He frantically grabs fistfuls to pull himself upright again as Sam picks up speed again.  The interstate winds left and right and on the next bend, he can see they’re catching up to John; but there’s no sign of the truck.  Castiel’s heart sinks further and Sam lowers his head, pushing himself to run faster.  The wind whips hard at Castiel’s face, forcing him to huddle down against Sam.  He watches the ground blaze by beneath them and doesn’t look up until he hears a sharp bark over the rushing air.

He glances up just as Sam’s passing John and steadily increasing his lead as John starts falling behind faster.  He hears two more sharp barks from John and feels a grumble from Sam.  Castiel can tell from his frantic, strained movements that Sam’s running as he possibly can; as fast as Dean had last night.  But it’s not enough, they still haven’t seen even a speck of taillights ahead of them. 

Castiel dug his fingers into Sam’s skin in frustration, trying to will away the hot tears starting to prick at his eyes.  Sam made one last effort, pushing himself to run faster.  His legs couldn’t keep up with the demand and he started tripping over his own paws.  Sam yelped in panic and struggled to lengthen his steps and regain balance, just barely managing to do so.  He slowed down from a full run to a trot, then walk, then slowed to a stop altogether.  He stood with his legs apart and head down, gasping for breath.  He glanced up ahead of them, ears low in defeat and gave a sorrowful whine. 

Castiel slid off his side, dropping unceremoniously to the ground as Sam raised his head with an ear piercing howl.  Both he and Castiel were hopeful to hear a returning howl from Dean, and they did hear a howl.  But it wasn’t from Dean, it was John; it took Castiel a second longer to make the distinction.  Castiel braced his elbows against his knees and dropped his head in his hands, fisting his hands against his eyes as he took in a shaky breath.

Both of them remained in the middle of the road, not caring if someone were to come by.  Minutes dragged by like hours, punctuated only by Sam’s occasional whine.  Neither one of them moved, even when they heard the skitter of John’s claws as he approached.  He came up and stood even with Sam, glancing at him briefly from the corner of his eye, then staring ahead.  John dropped his head, ears flat and growling lowly in frustration.  He huffed a coarse bark at Sam as he turned and started back the way they’d come.

Castiel lifted his head as he heard John leaving and turned to face Sam.  He didn’t even look at Castiel as he turned around and waited for him to climb back on.  Part of Castiel wanted to refuse; it meant giving up and accepting that Dean was gone.  Just like that.  But the other, more rational part of him reminded him that they wouldn’t give up.  Not when they now had even more motivation than before to find Azazel. 

Castiel reluctantly climbed back on Sam’s back.  He could feel him still breathing heavily from his valiant effort to catch the truck and couldn’t blame him for only walking now.  The walk back, of course, took a great deal longer.  Sam had ran for miles and if Castiel had to guess, he’d say it was at the very least twenty.  Castiel tried to ignore the crushing feeling in his chest as they walked and, while he did understand Sam’s pace, he still wished he would run.  He couldn’t stand this feeling and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and curl up.

He kept his eyes fixed on John, just ahead of him.  He walked with the same gait as an old dog, slow and somewhat careless.  With his posture now, it was hard to imagine him as fierce and aggressive as he had been before. 

There was nothing said, or noise made, between the three of them as John and Sam slunk back to Castiel’s house.  When they finally reached it, after what felt like an eternity, Castiel half expected them to slink off somewhere else to either sulk or start planning a rescue.  But they stayed with him as he got off Sam and went to open his front door.  There was a tiny bit of him that was glad they were staying, but at the same time he wanted them to leave.

He shrugged off his jacket and toed his boots off as he drudged towards the couch.  He felt like there was something he was missing and patted down his sides and pockets, trying to place it.  He scrunched up his face in thought and looked to Sam and John, as if they’d have an answer.  He stared at them for a good thirty seconds before he realized it.  His gun.  He’d left it at Azazel’s house.  Castiel swore under his breath and flopped onto the couch.  He rolled over onto his back and stared almost hopelessly up at the ceiling.

Castiel heard the sounds of twisting flesh and crackling bones and closed his eyes.  He didn’t particularly want to see Sam and John naked.

“The hell do they even want…?” Castiel muttered, before either had a chance to speak.

“I don’t know,” Sam mumbled.

“Azazel used to hunt for sport and trophies,” John said, “But he never took any alive.”

Castiel threw an arm over his eyes, trying to ignore the silent suggestion starting to form between them.  Sam was the first to voice it.

“What if…he’s still keeping them for trophies, but like— some kind of zoo?” Sam asked.

John gritted his teeth.

“Better than dead,” John grumbled.

“Is it?”

Castiel moved his arm enough to glare at Sam. 

“Well, I mean, if that’s the case, it’s not gonna be the San Diego zoo,” Sam defended.

John rolled his eyes.

“It’s either that, or being someone’s pet, or forced into some underground fighting ring,” Sam added.

“You’re not helping,” Castiel commented dryly.

Now he really wished they’d leave.  None of those ideas had crossed Castiel’s mind and not a single one was better than the other; sans being dead. 

“Cas— I’m sorry, but if we can figure what they want or where they’re taking him… It’ll make getting him back that much easier.”

“I know.  But can we just…” Castiel sighed, “Can we not talk about that _right_ now?”

Sam hummed and paced around the room a few times before settling into a chair.  The silence was somewhat enjoyable for a short lived moment before Castiel could practically feel Sam getting restless.  Without looking, he could tell Sam was fidgeting with his fingers and anxiously bouncing his leg; there was an unspoken shared annoyance between Castiel and John.  He kept it up for several minutes before he pushed himself up out of the chair.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna go see Jess,” Sam excused.

Castiel made a noise of acknowledgement and he assumed John made some kind of gesture.  But Sam didn’t leave right away.  Castiel moved his arm enough to look at him and seeing him staring intently at John.  He turned his head up to look at John and saw him giving Sam a hard look, then turned his glare on Castiel.  Castiel’s breath hitched and he cleared his throat as he went back to covering his face as nonchalantly as possible.  He laid there quietly hoping John would leave with Sam.  He heard the door open and only one body shifting, telling him that hope was crushed.  Castiel groaned to himself.

“Ain’t no party for me either,” John grumbled.

“Then why don’t you leave too?”

Castiel clamped his mouth shut; he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.  He already had a feeling John didn’t like him.  A very well based feeling, if the first time they saw each was anything to go by and the way he’d treated Castiel in their short interactions over the past several hours.

“I’d love to,” John snipped, “Only reason I’m staying is because there’s a chance Azazel may come back.”

“I have a hard time believing you want to protect me.”

“That’s because I don’t.  If he needs leverage with Dean, he’ll come back for you.  I don’t care what happens to you so long as I can find out where he took Dean.”

Castiel swallowed thickly.            

“Dean would care,” Castiel forced.

John quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Why?  Because you think he loves you?” John scoffed,“He loves anyone who shows him attention.”

“I wonder why that is,” Castiel bit.

John gritted his teeth.

“Don’t start on me with all that bullshit about being a bad parent,” John growled, “You have no room to judge, you aren’t a parent.  You don’t how difficult raising two boys on the run is.”

Castiel knew better than to get into an argument, especially this kind of argument with someone he doesn’t know and no one around to help.  But he’s standing and speaking before he can stop himself.

“Dean’s told me stories, all kinds of stories,” Castiel started, “And I’ve noticed something.  Anytime _you’re_ in them, they’re short stories.  He doesn’t tell them in detail like the others, he skirts over it quickly.”

“How much detail could he even tell you?” John challenges, “Everything’s short with him, he can’t even speak right.”

“He’s told me about that too.  That you didn’t like it, him trying to learn and to teach Sam,” Castiel said, “Jessica ended up teaching Sam more, at least he had that.  But no one was helping Dean.”

That latter part was an assumption.  Sam and Jessica may have tried helping Dean, or they were the reason he could speak as well as he could, but he clearly hadn’t gotten the same level of help.

“And y’know what?  If you’d let him talk for more than a couple seconds, he’s actually pretty good,” Castiel added.

John bristled and stood up right, crossing the room towards Castiel.

“Keep talking,” John dared.

Castiel took a deep breath, his mind scrambling for anything to say.  John snorted in his face and turned to go back to his spot away from Castiel.

“I may not be a parent, but from the sounds of it, you weren’t much of one.”

John wheeled around on Castiel with a furious snarl, body transforming in a heartbeat.  Two heavy paws were shoving Castiel down as fangs snapped in his face.  Castiel went completely limp, nearly passing out from sudden fear as he fell willingly to the ground.

Castiel pressed himself flat against the floor and stared wide eyed in terror up at John.  John kept snarling at growling down at him, moving his head closer until Castiel could feel his hot breath on his face.  He clacked his teeth together, making Castiel flinch and close his eyes in fear.  John grumbled lowly and stepped off Castiel.  Castiel trembled and peaked one eye open before letting out a shaky breath and pushing himself up.  In the back of his mind, there was another snarky comment; something about John asking John if he used scare tactics on Sam and Dean like that.  But Castiel was smart enough this time to stuff the comment down.

John slinked over to the window and stared out into the waning night.  There was another tense, quiet pause before John shuddered.  Castiel averted his eyes, still not wanting to see the other man naked.  Castiel turned his attention to chewing at his lip and picking at his finger nails.

“Stop that,” John grunted, “It’s annoying.”

“I’m, uh… I’m sorry,” Castiel apologized.

John looked over his shoulder.

“Not for— for this,” Castiel waved his hands a little, “I’m sorry for what I said.  I was out of line, I’m sure you did what you could…”

“No, you’re right,” John sighed, “I wasn’t much of a dad to them.  There’s a lot of things I should’ve done— should’ve not done.”

Castiel watched him quietly.

“Not that any of it matters now,” John hummed.

Castiel frowned. 

“I’ll give you this though,” John grunted, “Boy loves you more than anyone else I’ve seen.”

Castiel glanced up at that.  He opened his mouth, but was at a loss for words.  He turned his attention down to his hands, feeling a loving warmth blossom alongside the fear clawing at his insides.

 

 

“How much further do we have to go?”

“At least another two hours,” Azazel replied flatly.

The other man groaned and slumped in his seat, wincing at the pinpricks of pain that scatter through his nerves.  They’d already be at the rendezvous if they hadn’t spent hours in the emergency room.  They’d tried to patch themselves, once they were clear of John, Sam and Castiel, in an effort to save time and still get there on time.  But by the time morning came, it was evident that what they’d done wasn’t good enough.  They had no choice but to go to the nearest hospital.

Now they’d be lucky to make it to Twin Falls, Idaho by evening.

A few minutes of silence passed before they heard soft noises coming from the truck bed.  Both men sighed and dropped their heads.  Azazel slowed down and pulled off on to the shoulder, throwing the driver door open with irritation.  He went around to the back of the truck and left the other man to listen boredly.  He heard snarls and growls that grew louder, a few odd clangs of metal and cursing on Azazel’s part.  Eventually, there was a short bark of surprise, followed by silence and the sound of the back end being shut up again.  Azazel came back around and got back in the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut.

“Please tell me you gave that fleabag enough to drop an elephant…”

“I hope so,” Azazel muttered.

Their trip, since the moment they tore out of the garage, had been filled with Dean’s howling, vicious snarling and ramming himself against the small cage.  By some grace of God, the truck still had a box of tranquilizers, which Azazel had been administering by hand.  Doing it that way was taking a huge gamble and Azazel resolved to think about a safer way to do so for the rest of the drive.

Thankfully, he had given Dean plenty.  They hadn’t heard even the slightest sound from him for the rest of the ride.  Azazel slowed down as a camp ground turn off came up.  The rough, frozen road crunched loudly beneath their tires.  There were a few patches of ice the truck lost traction on, but they weren’t going fast enough for it to be dangerous and none of the patches were big enough to make the whole vehicle lose control.  Being February and still freezing outside, the campground was completely empty, save for one black luxury car.

Azazel pulled up beside it and got out of the car, the other man following suit.  Before he could even shut his door, someone was already out of the luxury car and harping over it at them.

“What the bloody hell happened to you two?”

“Your precious pup,” the man spit, “And the other two mutts.”

“Is that anyway to talk about your paycheck, Alistair?”

The man, Alistair, sneered and leaned up against the truck, folding his arms.  The other man huffed and rolled his eyes, then motioning for Azazel to open up the truck bed.  As soon as the tailgate dropped and the canopy lifted, the man scowled.

“Only one?”

“For now,” Azazel replied, “Three at once is a bit… overwhelming.  Next time shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

“It better not be,” the man grumbled.

Azazel hooked a chain to the lower front end of the cage and started the pulley, dragging it forward for his employer to see.

“Awfully quiet…” the man noted.

“Had to sedate the whelp,” Alistair grumbled, “Couldn’t get any shut eye with him howling so much.”

“And you do need your beauty rest,” the man noted dryly.

Azazel opened the caged door for their employer to see Dean.  He stepped closer, eyeing his unconscious form.  He hesitated a moment before reaching out and running his hand over Dean’s fur.  He trailed his fingers down his foreleg and lifted his paw, examining both his claws and muscle.  He dropped Dean’s foreleg carelessly and moved a little closer, again running his hand through Dean’s fur; this time going back over his shoulders.  When he hand touched between Dean’s shoulders, he stopped and scrunched up his face.  There was a patch of short, coarse fur over skin that was rough in a few spots and tenderly soft in others.

“What’s this?” the man snipped.

Azazel raised his eyebrows in amusement and looked to Alistair.  Alistair glared back and sighed.

“There was a bit of an— _incident_.  He was burned across the back, among other areas,” Alistair replied, “The other burns are healed, I’d say.  This one will be completely healed in just a couple more hours.  Nothing to worry about.”

“’Nothing to worry about’?  My client will be seeing him in a couple hours,” the man snapped, “Trophy pets are flawless.  How many people do you think will still want him with an injury?”

“Just tell them it’ll be healed by the time they get home,” Alistair growled.

“And do you know how well it’s going to heal?  Do you know it’s going to keep healing, that it’s not going to scar?” the man asked.

Alistair pursed his lips.

“Of course, you don’t,” the man grumbled.

He pulled out his cellphone and started typing away.  Both Alistair and Azazel watched him anxiously, questions of what he was doing on the tips of their tongues.  The man stopped texting and stared at his screen, waiting for a response.  The phone buzzed and immediately buzzed again with another response.  He read the messages, then stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

“You two are lucky.  Client’s still interested in him,” he commented, “I’m going to go collect payment first, so you can be paid the money you don’t deserve, and then I’ll tell you where to meet him to give him his new pet.”

The man spun on his heels and walked off back to his own car.  Azazel and Alistair waited until the other man was in his car and leaving to speak again.         

“I’d like to see Crowley do a better job,” Alistair grumbled.

“Say that to him,” Azazel dared, “Watch him hire new hunters.”

Azazel turned around to move to start the wench, dragging the cage back into the truck and went around the to the driver’s side while.

“Should’ve stayed with training…” Alistair grumbled.

When the cage was fully back in the truck bed, Alistair shut the tailgate back up and went to the passenger side.  He climbed in the truck, with a good deal of effort and no help from Azazel, and huffed as he sat back.

“So, what?  We’ve got to wait on Crowley ‘s text like a dog waiting for orders?” Alistair asked.

Azazel quirked a smile.

“Exactly.  But he doesn’t take long,” Azazel replied.

As soon as the words left his mouth, both men heard a muffled shuffling sound.  Alistair looked to Azazel with a mixture of annoyance and dread.

“It’s your turn,” Alistair sneered.

Azazel sighed and got back out of the truck.  He went around to the back and opened the tailgate again, going for a small box sitting near the end.  He glanced up to see moving groggily and looking around.  Once his eyes locked on Azazel, he woke up much faster.  Dean was on his feet, unsteady, and bristling as a growl rumbled through his chest.

“Good morning to you too,” Azazel drawled.

He opened the box, causing Dean growl deeper and bristle more at him as he took an object the size of his hand out of the box.  Azazel turned the needle over in his hands, pulling himself up on the tailgate and uncapping the needle.  Dean snarled viciously and flattened his ears as he backed into the far corner of the cage.  Azazel raised a hand and crept closer.

“Easy Dean-o,” Azazel soothed, “Just gonna take another nice nap.”

Dean bared his teeth and pressed himself further into the corner.  Azazel stopped right beside the cage, but didn’t try to reach in.  He knew better than that.  Dean watched him closely and he stared back, waiting for Dean to move first.  Dean knew it was a tranquilizer in his hands, or rather, he knew what the thing in his hand did and he didn’t like it all.

“You gonna be a good boy and keep quiet back here?” Azazel asked.

Dean opened his mouth in a seething growl as response.

“Guess that means no,” Azazel hummed.

He moved cautiously to the side, seeing if there was enough room for him to fit between the cage and the side of the truck canopy.  If he squeezed, he could fit.  But he’d also lose some skin and body parts, as Dean would be able to reach with his claws and possibly his teeth.  Azazel dropped his head, quietly cursing the fact that they’d left the tranquilizer gun back in the garage in their frantic escape.  He glanced around the truck bed for anything that could help, but there was only chains and wires, plus two control poles.  He considered the latter for a second, but then realized it wouldn’t synch up enough to hold the needle steady. 

Azazel turned back to Dean, still growling and licking his teeth.  He settled on baiting Dean to come forward.  He waived his hand taunting close to the cage bars and he could see Dean wrestling with the urge to lunge for him or stay back, just out of reach.

“I’ll give you points for not being stupid,” Azazel commented.

Azazel licked his lips nervously and moved a little closer, reaching his hand just inside the bars to bait Dean further.  Dean tensed up and flicked his hands between Azazel’s hand, the tranquillizer in the other hand and his face.  Azazel frowned and waved his hand tauntingly again, but with a knot of fear in his stomach.  Dean bristled up more and lunged.

Azazel ripped his hand back, fear flooding his body as he felt Dean’s teeth graze his fingers.  Dean’s jaw snapped shut on the steel bars at the same time Azazel’s other hand came forward and stabbed Dean with the tranquillizer.  Dean yelped and stumbled back against the otherside of the cage and tried to bite at the tranquilizer lodged in his skin.  It took a good minute for the drugs to seep in and take effect, quickly lulling Dean back to sleep.

Once he was down again, Azazel reached inside and plucked the tranquillizer from Dean and capped it, tossing it back in the box he’d taken in from.  He hopped out of the back and closed up the tailgate again.  As soon as he got back to the driver’s door, Alistair held Azazel’s phone up.

“Not long at all,” Alistair grinned, “We’re meeting about forty miles from here.”

“What time?”

“Buyer’s on his way there now.”

“Excited, isn’t he?”

“You know how people get when it comes to new puppies.”

Azazel put the truck in gear and started off towards the address; in Salt Lake City, Utah.  It’d take them just shy of three hours to get there and Dean would wake up at least once or twice during that time.  If the tranquilizer had been used on a normal dog, wolf, or person, they’d be down for at least two and a half hours.  So far, they’d used almost ten tranquilizers for a six and a half hour car ride; not counting the time spent in the hospital.  Dean had gotten the luxury of staying awake during that time though.

 

 

 

There was a fault in the monitors’ steady beeping.  Sam flicked his eyes up to the lines on the screen, reflecting the stutter Sam had heard.  He was on feet in a heartbeat and crossed to Jessica’s side in two strides, crouching down by the bedside.  The monitors’ beeping faltered again, this time followed by a twitch on Jessica’s face.  Sam went to cup her face, but hesitated; he wasn’t sure if it would hurt or if painkillers were still working on her.  Instead, he just gingerly brushed along her cheek with his fingertips.  Jessica knitted her eyebrows together with a groan and Sam retracted his hand, fearing he had hurt her.  She groaned again, opening her eyes and blinking several times. 

“Wha…what’s going on?” Jessica slurred.

She moved to get up, but Sam put a light hand to her shoulder to stop her.

“S-Sam, wha— Oh, _god_ …”

Jessica relaxed back into the bed, closing her eyes and breathing a little harder as all her senses started coming back to her.  First to come back, of course, was her sense of pain.  Her face pinched in pain and she frantically grabbed for Sam’s hand, despite the movements worsening the pain.  Sam held her hand in one hand and reached with the other to hit the ‘call nurse’ button.

“I’m…I’m okay,” Jessica breathed, “Sam, I’m okay.”

“Yeah, you are,” Sam smiled softly.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sam replied.

He lifted her hand and gently kissed the back, then rubbed his thumb over her hand.  Jessica nodded weakly with a sigh and let her head fall back onto the pillow. 

A minute later, a nurse came in to check on her.  The nurse took her vitals, changed her IV and told them the doctor would be there soon.  The doctor came in almost right as the nurse had said that.  The doctor checked her vitals again and went through her chart, asking her a few questions about her health.  He didn’t want to overwhelm her with anything, so he kept it to what he needed to know right then.  After that, he gave her some painkillers, but not enough to knock her out or make her loopy.  He promised both of them that.  At this point, he wanted to keep her awake and coherent.  Once he was done, he excused himself and said he’d come back in a couple hours to check on her again.

Jessica let out a content sigh as the painkillers worked their way through her.  She laid still for brief moment before she got a look on her face like she’d forgotten something.  Sam scowled, immediately thinking the doctor had lied.  She turned to Sam with a look of concern.       

“Is Dean okay?” Jessica asked quietly.

Sam tensed up and swallowed thickly, dropping his head.

“Oh god…” Jessica whimpered, “Is he— He’s not…dead, is he?”

“No, no,” Sam replied quickly, “He’s, um… He’s alive and f-fine.  I think.”

“You think?”

“Jess, after the fire and you were brought here, we went after Azazel and that other guy,” Sam started, “Things didn’t…they didn’t go as planned.  They got away.”

“But what about Dean?” Jessica asked carefully.

“They took him,” Sam forced.

“What do you mean they took him?”

“They just— took him.  They were gonna lock me up in a cage and take me, but Dean got me out and they locked him in and—“

“Sam, slow down,” Jessica interrupted.

Sam hadn’t even realized how fast he was talking.  He licked his lips and nodded, taking a deep breath.

“He got taken instead of me,” Sam continued, “And we tried to chase them, but…we lost them.”

“Do you know where they’re going?  Or what they want?”

Sam shook his head.

“Well, then what’re you doing here?”

“What?”

“What’re you doing here?” Jessica repeated.

“I— I wanted to make sure you were alright and—“

“I know, Sam,” Jessica said, “And I’m really glad you did and that you were here when I woke up.  But I also would’ve understood if you weren’t.  So long as someone told me that.”

“Jess…”

“I love you, Sam.  But you need to go find your brother, I’ll be fine,” Jessica promised, “Just…stay out of trouble, alright?”

“I’ll try,” Sam agreed.

He gave her chaste kiss on the lips, muttering an apology when she winced and an ‘I love you’.  She smiled and made an attempt to bat as his arm, though she only barely managed to brush his skin as he left in hurry.

Sam took long strides through the hospital, making his way down the halls and towards a back entrance.  He opened the door just enough to peer through and see if any employees were back there on a smoke break, but the coast was clear.  He quickly stripped out of his clothes, transforming his body as he kicked his pants off and immediately went into a full run.  He’d left clothes behind before, only to be lectured by Jessica about how they weren’t cheap.

He darted through town, keeping to as many backroads and shrubbery as he could until he reached the interstate.  He bounded alongside it, down in the ditch and over the large rocks that filled it.  If anyone happened to see him, it’d only be for a second and he could probably be mistaken for anything other than a dire wolf.

Sam quickly crossed the interstate to the otherside, making a beeline up Castiel’s driveway right to his door.  He came to a stop just before barreling into the wood.  Before he had to even start transforming back into a human, the door opened.  He stood almost eye to eye with John, already in wolf form and clearly ready to go as he brushed past him at a trot.  Sam glanced up at Castiel, who looked completely uneasy.

“If you can, will you come back tonight?  Just to tell me what’s… what’s going on?” Castiel asked.

Sam nodded his head and turned to follow after John.  John glanced over his shoulder and once he saw Sam was now following him, he worked up to a full run.  Sam was beside him a second later and both were jumping down into the ditch for cover.

They didn’t know where they were going exactly, but they knew I-90 went on for quite a while without anything of significance.  There was no place Azazel and his accomplice would’ve stopped other than a gas station, and the hospital stop John and Sam didn’t know about, until they reached their destination.  With Dean locked in the back of a covered vehicle, and coupled with it having been last night and the winter winds sweeping everything away, there was no scent whatsoever to follow.  They’d have to use the same tactics they’d been using to hunt Azazel in the first place.  But they couldn’t do it at as leisurely a pace.

The first place they stopped was Butte, Montana; nestled between the junctions for south highway 15 and north highway 15.  It’d be easier to shift into a human and ask a few people around gas stations or convenience stores if they’d seen anyone fitting Azazel’s description or the truck’s.  But not many people are inclined to answer the questions of naked men. 

John and Sam skulked around the town, looking for any hint as to whether they’d stayed on i-90 or taken highway 15.  There was one conversation Sam caught that sounded interesting and he stalked closer to the group of men chatting outside the back door of a bar.

“No, I ain’t kiddin’ man, you shoulda heard this thing!  Sounded like a monster in these guys’ truck.”

“What was it?”

“I asked and they said it was just a dog and I said there ain’t no way in hell that’s just a dog.  The thing was just downright terrifyin’ and loud as all get out.”

“D’ya see it?”

“I tried to get a look at it, but the one guy got in the way and started pushin’ me back.  Said it was none of my damn business.”

“They say where they were going?”

“Yeah, all sarcastic like.  He said they were going to a dog fightin’ ring down south.”

“Maybe they were?  I mean, if was a dog that vicious, it’d be a shoo-in.”

“I don’t think they’d let a beast in there.  Pretty sure even those guys got rules.”

“Maybe it was just a pit bull or a Rottweiler or, uh… Doberman?”

“Jack’s got a couple of those, don’t sound anything like this—“

Sam left the conversation, he heard what he needed.  Azazel and his partner were going south; they’d taken highway 15.  He did stop to think for a moment that whichever of them had said it was lying.  They could still be going east to Helena, it was the next major city.  Or maybe they’d turned north and fled up to Canada.  Sam worked his way through town, more back towards the junction to south highway 15. 

Both he and John crossed paths and Sam wordlessly told him what he’d heard.  They didn’t communicate through a direct kind of telepathy, it was more like sharing feelings and memories.  John seemed skeptical of it, but it was their only lead so far.  Both of them crept through town a little longer and were graced with overhearing another conversation between a woman and a man.

“These guys were so badly torn up last night, I can’t believe they drove themselves to the hospital.”

“What happened?”

“They said they were on a camping trip and a couple starved coyotes wandered into the campground.  But this looked more like a bear got them!”

“Shit, where were they camping?”

“They didn’t say, but I didn’t really ask either.  I was a little busy arguing with one why I couldn’t just ‘stitch him up and let him go’.”

“Where’d he have to be so bad?”

“Didn’t say that either, but they were in a big hurry.  I think I heard one of them say something about state lines.”

“Idaho, maybe?”

Idaho was the closest state line and straight shot down south highway 15 from Butte.  John would’ve liked to get a little more solid proof that was the way they were going, just to avoid wasting time.  But at the same time, going around for more confirmation was also wasting time.  Both of them decided to go with it and made their way back to the southbound junction and bolted down the highway.  They’d stop again at whichever junction or bigger city came first.

 

                          

Azazel and Alistair arrived at the address, which belonged to an abandoned and decrepit old warehouse.  Seeing no one there yet, they circled around the warehouse.  The backdoor of the warehouse was open and they saw the gleam of a newer black truck sitting just inside the shadows.  Azazel drove inside and to the back of the other truck, backing up to it to make transfer easier.  As soon as they stopped, the other truck’s driver door opened.

Azazel got out of the truck first and walked around to stand between the two vehicles.  Alistair followed a short second later, getting there at the same time as the buyer.  The buyer was a man in his early thirties, black coiffed hair and vibrant blue eyes.

“Bit of a pretty boy, aren’t you?” Alistair muttered.

The buyer narrowed his eyes at Alistair, but otherwise disregarded him.

“Crowley said he was severely injured,” the buyer said, “But I trust he’s fine now?”

“Bit of short fur on his back for the moment, but otherwise, yes,” Azazel answered.

Azazel went to open the truck bed and the buyer did the same.  Both tailgates nearly reached each other, leaving only a gap a few inches wide; nothing that would hinder moving the cage from vehicle to the other.  When Azazel climbed up on the tailgates, he was greeted with a drowsy grumble.

“He’s a bit grouchy when he wakes up,” Azazel added.

Just like before, Dean was quick to wake up and start growling and barring his teeth.  The buyer stepped around to get a better view of his purchase.  Azazel hooked chains to the cage and started moving it forward, bringing it into slightly better lighting.  The buyer raised his eyebrows in interest as Dean twisted around in the cage, trying to keep the three of them in his sights.  The buyer lifted himself up beside the cage, the dip of the truck catching Dean’s attention and causing him to whirl around and snap at the steel bars.

Dean pressed himself as much as he could into the corner, opening his mouth in a vicious snarl as the buyer reached forward.  The buyer stopped his movements and backed up, just enough to hold both his hands up innocently.  Dean eyed him suspiciously, fangs barred and crouching low.  He flicked his eyes over to see Alistair opening the box Azazel had gotten into earlier.  He surged to the front of the cage, startling the buyer and nearly making him fall backwards.  Dean snapped his jaws at the bars and reached through to claw at the lining of the tailgate, leaving deep scratches in the polyurethane.

The buyer righted himself and threw an arm out to stop Alistair from coming any closer with the tranquillizer.  Alistair stopped and stared at him in confusion.               

“Do you want to lose a hand?” Alistair grumbled, “If you do, be my guest.”

“Of course not,” the buyer bit, “But if I want him to calm down and trust me, knocking him out isn’t the way to go.”

“Didn’t strike me as a monster sympathizer,” Alistair said.

The buyer ignored him again and slowly moved one hand closer to Dean, who still had teeth clamped around two bars and growling.  When his hand was only inches away, Dean recoiled and narrowed his eyes at him for a second before lunging again.  The man pulled back, more prepared this time, and waited for Dean to settle down.  Dean snapped at him when he reached forward again.  They repeated that again several times, much to Alistair and Azazel’s impatience.  They just wanted to dump Dean on the buyer and leave; they had other business to attend to.

But after the umpteenth try, Dean didn’t immediately try to rip the man’s arm off, which piqued Alistair and Azazel’s curiosity.  The man smiled and reached slowly again, this time getting his arm up to the elbow through the bars.  Dean crawled forward, lips curled and ears flat in warning as he lifted his head to scent the man’s hand.  Dean’s rage softened to something of confusion and curiosity as he sniffed the man’s hand.  There was something about his smell.

“There we go,” the man purred, “What’s his name?”

“Dean,” Azazel answered.

Keeping his movements slow and unthreatening, he moved his hand to pet the side of Dean’s face as he continued to sniff him.

“Dean…” the buyer repeated, “I’m Michael.”

Michael pulled his hand back, watching Dean as he stared back at him suspiciously.  Michael hopped off the tailgate, leaving Azazel and Alistair to transfer Dean’s cage to his truck.  It a while to transfer it, since Michael’s truck wasn’t set up to receive it like Azazel’s truck.  On top of it being heavy, Dean had gone back to lashing out and trying to take someone’s arm off.  Michael was content to watch them struggle until one of them went for a tranquilizer; he was adamant about them not being used on Dean anymore.  Of course, that led to a number of grumblings and swearing as they continued working. 

Once the cage was moved up against the cab of Michael’s truck, Alistair got down and leaned against the vehicle to catch his breath.  He looked down at some of his bandages to find them bled through from the strain.  He rolled his eyes at the inconvenience and indignance more than the actual pain.  He stuffed his hand into his pocket and fished around, finding the small object of his search.  He held his hand out, almost expectantly, for Michael.  Without hesitation, Michael stepped forward and held his hand out.  Alistair dropped a ring with two keys on it into his hand.

“I’d say good luck, but looks like you won’t be needing it,” Alistair sneered.

“You catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” Michael quoted.

Alistair rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the truck.

“We’ll see how long that lasts…” Alistair mumbled.

Michael toyed with the keys in his hand for a moment before going around his truck, shutting the tailgate and going back to the driver side.

“We’ve got a bit of drive,” Michael said as he passed Dean, “But you’ll like where we’re going.”

Dean huffed and growled, pacing in tight circles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeey, didn't i say ealier in the fic Michael is Cas' brother...? ;) i kept going back and forth working on scenes for the chapter trying to fill it up more so there might be one or two things that repeat in there, but i tried fixing and smoothing it all out  
> also, title unashamedly taken from the FF7 soundtrack, i just happened to be listening to it at the moment.


	19. Vegas Life

Castiel spent the entire day watching his phone, followed by most of the night until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.  When he woke up the next day, the first thing he checked was his phone.  Sam hadn’t come back or contacted him in any way and it was starting to make him nervous.  He tried to reassure himself by telling himself that Sam didn’t have his number memorized and without his cell phone, how was he going to tell him anything?  Run all the way back from wherever they’d gone?  No, that was ridiculous.

Castiel took a deep, steadying breath and proceeded to get ready for work.  He made it a point to turn his phone off, in hopes of relaxing by not being able to check it.  But it didn’t help.  An hour into his shift and he turned it back on.  He then picked up the habit of checking it every forty-five minutes and Jo took notice of it.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What?”

“What’s up?” Jo repeated, “You look kinda anxious.”

“Oh, it’s, um… Nothing,” Castiel replied weakly.

Jo fixed him with a bitch face of disbelief, then proceed to pull a bar stool.  She planted herself on the stool and leaned forward on her elbows.

“What’re you doing?” Castiel asked.

“Hoping you’d spill it like they do on TV when someone sits like this,” Jo shrugged, “But for real, tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s nothing,” Castiel repeated, with a little more conviction this time.

“Cas, that’s such crap,” Jo sighed.

Castiel shook his head and looked around for something to distract either himself or Jo.  The only thing to do at the moment was to obsessively align all the bottles of liquor on the shelf; and that’s exactly what he started doing.  But he could still feel her staring at him, waiting for him to talk.

“Jo, I’m not going to talk about it,” Castiel stated.

“So something is bothering you?”

Castiel paused, mentally slapping himself. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Jo whined, dropping her hands on the bar, “Am I gonna have to play twenty questions to figure it out?”

Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupting by his phone vibrating in his pocket.  He snatched his phone out of his pocket, hastily excusing himself and nearly ran in his retreat outside.

“Sam?” Castiel answered.

“Sam?  Who’s that?  You’re naked boyfriend?”

“Gabriel…”

“Don’t sound so bummed out, bro,” Gabriel huffed.

“I was expecting a call, what do you want?”

“Well now I wanna know who Sam is.”

“The brother of my ‘naked boyfriend’, who is named Dean.  I’m fairly certain you knew that,” Castiel deadpanned, “Now, what do you really want?”

“Just thought I’d call ya up, since I haven’t talked to you in while, sheesh.  What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, I’m just waiting for Sam to call,” Castiel replied shortly.

“What’s he supposed to call about?”

“Uh… A surprise…?” Castiel offered.

“Oh really?” Gabriel purred, “What kinda surprise?”

“I’m not sure, it’s, um… a late birthday present—“ Castiel then immediately remembered he needed to make another payment to Bobby for the impala, “He’s— He’s helping me trying to figure out what to get him.”

“Well, you could buy him some super fancy, exotic pet,” Gabriel suggested.

“What?  Why would I do that?”

“I dunno, Michael bought himself one and Luc got all pissed about it.”

“Why does he care?” Castiel asked.

“Beats me.  He’s probably jealous,” Gabriel hummed, “I know I am.  A little bit.  I wanna at least see whatever it is.”

“You don’t know?”

“One of ‘em might’ve told me, but you know me.  Whenever they start bitchin’, I stop listenin’.”

Castiel could practically hear the grin on his brother’s face.  He sighed and rolled his eyes.  His phone gave a short beep and Castiel quickly pulled it away from his face to see if someone was trying to call him.  To his disappointment, it was only a notification his phone had 14% battery life left.  Castiel scowled at the screen and, as he brought it back to his ear, he could hear Gabriel still talking.

“Gabriel,” Castiel interrupted, “I’ve got to go, my phone battery is low.”

“You sure it isn’t because the voice says you’re almost out of minutes?” Gabriel teased.

“I said that _once_ several years ago and I was limited on minutes at the time,” Castiel defended.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabriel dismissed, “I’ll chat at ya later then.”

“Goodbye.”

Castiel went back inside and expected Jo to come back and start asking him questions again, but he was glad when she didn’t.  She was tied up helping a family of patrons.  Before he went back to working, he set a reminder on his phone to go to Bobby’s after work.  Now that he thought about it, he should’ve gone over three days ago, but with everything that had happened, he forgot.  Hopefully Bobby wouldn’t hold it against him.

 

 

Michael moved around to the back of his truck, unlocking the tailgate before going inside his house.  Dean tilted his head to the side, watching the door as it closed with cautious curiosity.  A minute later, Michael came back carrying a tangled bundle that clinked in his arms.  He dropped the mess on the tailgate, revealing the mess of chain wrapped around a pole. 

Michael unclasped the end of the chain from the rest and pulled it away from the mess.  The chain unraveled to be about eight feet long, with a small set of leather straps attached to the end.  Michael fastened the pole to the chain, stiffening five feet of it, and unhooked the leather from the end.  Dean quickly recognized the leather as a muzzle.  The chain and pole were a more drastic version of an animal control pole. 

When Michael approached the cage with the muzzle, Dean backed himself into the corner, growling fiercely.

“It’s only for a few minutes, if you cooperate.  I promise.”

Dean licked his teeth and snapped his mouth.  Michael dropped his shoulders, turning his eyes towards the control pole.  He picked up the pole and made sure the loop of chain at the end was wide enough for Dean’s head and neck, then fed the pole into the cage.  Dean snarled and attacked the pole, taking the chain in his mouth.  Michael worked the loop over his head and pulled the chain tight, synching awkwardly in Dean’s mouth and around his head.  He yelped and shook his head, trying to move in some way to get the chain off.

Michael loosened it enough slip from Dean’s mouth and fall around his next.  He pulled the chain tight once again, as tight as it would and jerked the pole back.  The movement caught Dean off guard and he stumbled along with it, falling into the side of the cage.  Michael snatched up the muzzle and put it on Dean’s face before he could react.

Dean grumbled and growled, scratching angrily at the muzzle.  Michael decided he was distracted enough to open the cage door and did so slowly.  The sound of the chain and pole sliding through the door caught Dean’s attention.  He whirled on Michael, lunging for him the second the door allowed.  Michael instinctively grabbed the pole and held it tight, jabbing Dean in the throat and keeping him a somewhat safe five feet from him.  Dean snarled and shoved forward to get at Michael, who only moved back with him. 

He nearly fell off the back of the truck, but regained his balance quickly as Dean continued to press forward.  Michael had thought he might have to drag Dean inside, but so long as he remained in front like this, getting him inside would be much easier.  Michael had left all the doors open, expecting this sort of challenge, and guided Dean into the house. 

Going backwards down the stairs made Michael nervous, this was probably the one place Dean could get the upper hand.  But thankfully, he didn’t.  Michael led him towards a wall with a deep recess and iron bar door.  Dean took notice of the new cage a moment too late as he lunged again and Michael side stepped him.  The door was slammed shut behind Dean and Michael picked up the pole again through the metal bars.  He unfastened the pole from the chain and tied the chain around a bar as he used the pole to fish for something inside the cage.

Dean heard the slide of another chain and snapped his head to the side to see a slightly heavier chain anchored to the ground with an adjustable metal collar on the end.  Michael pulled the collar closer and moved it around close to Dean, who danced back as far as the chain would let him.

“If you let me put this on, I’ll take that muzzle off,” Michael offered.

Michael held the collar up invitingly; Dean stared at him incredulously.  Michael shrugged and took the chain Dean was currently attached to in both hands and yanked it back.  Dean didn’t budge an inch.  Michael readjusted his grip and braced one foot against the door.  When he pulled again, Dean went with the motion easily, throwing Michael off balance.  Dean surged to the door and clawed at the bars with a fierce snarl.  Michael scrambled to grab the chain and redo the tie around the bar to shorten Dean’s range.  Dean yelped and dropped down to swipe at Michael’s hands.

Michael drew his hands back, but he accomplished shortening the chain.  It wasn’t any kind of glorious or complex knot, it was more of just making the chain too much of a mess for it to move.  Dean was limited to arm’s reach.  Dean pulled against the chain in an effort to regain some range while Michael clamped the metal collar around Dean’s neck.  It didn’t fit at first and Michael moved quickly to extend it to its largest size, which was just barely enough to fit around Dean’s neck.  The collar hadn’t been designed for a skinwalker.  If Dean started behaving, he’d get him a collar that fit better.

“Now, as promised,” Michael said, “Come here.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Michael.  He was angry Michael had managed to get the collar on, but reluctantly moved closer for Michael to remove the collar.  He wasn’t going to suffer both if he didn’t have to.  Michael removed the chain first, pulling it through the bars and piling it on his side.  Then he kept his promise and removed the muzzle.  No sooner had the muzzle come off than Dean was chomping at the bars and snarling.  Michael flinched back a step, but regained himself.  Dean was secured behind the bars. 

It may be a crude way of containing, but it was effective.  It had held its previous tenant just fine.  Michael dusted himself off and turned to leave the room with Dean howling after him.

 

Sam and John crept low to the ground as they moved through Salt Lake City.  It wasn’t the first city they’d come into since leaving Montana, but it was the biggest city thus far, which presented them with a few more problems; namely more people.  They tried to be as discreet and stealthy as possible, but their anxiousness at losing the trail had them making a number of mistakes.  They’d drawn the attention of nearly a dozen passerbys by stepping wrong.  Every time that had happened, they either had to back pedal quickly or dart off in a direction they didn’t want to go.

Sam tried to creep faster and, in doing so, accidentally kicked a glass bottle.  The bottle skittered over the asphalt and rolled onto the sidewalk.  He froze in place, staring the bottle idly rolling over the sidewalk and coming to the stop underneath a curious stranger’s foot.  Sam blanched and darted across the alley way, taking cover behind a dumpster while John scrambled back around the corner they had come from.  Sam ducked his head to watch the stranger’s feet from beneath the dumpster and held his breath as the person remained still.  Two more pairs of feet came to join to the first, making Sam’s fur stand up.  He listened to them talk briefly before laughing about something and moving on.  Neither he or John moved until they could longer hear the people.

Once they were gone though, John was quick to rush up to Sam and snap angrily at the offending paw.  Sam yelped and danced back, flattening his ears in both anger and shame.  John growled lowly and stalked past Sam, moving into the adjoining alley way.  Sam huffed and started after him, taking a second to glance back at the street.

Just in time to see what he knew was Azazel’s truck.

Sam balked and stared as it went by.  He gave a short bark and scrambled to catch up to John, knocking into his side.  Before John even had a chance to get angry, Sam had silently communicated what he’d seen and was running down the alley to the next opening to watch for the truck.  John came up behind him and both of them poked their heads around the corner to see the vehicle pulling into the far turn lane.

For the duration of the red light, both of them tried to think of a way to follow without being seen by anyone.  But as the light turned green and the truck turned away from them, they had no plan; both of them risked it.  They bolted through the crosswalk and straight for the nearest cover, which happened to be under a car they could just barely fit under.  They squeezed and wiggled under, hoping no one had seen them; though they knew that was unlikely.  Regardless of any one who might come to inspect, the crawled along the ground and got to their feet on the other side of the car, running for the next bit of cover as they worked to keep up with the truck.

They tailed Azazel for miles, doing their best to remain out of sight while keeping up.  Sam was sure there would later be several dozen people talking about the ‘giant ass dogs’ they saw, but it was of little consequence at the moment.  Azazel was turning down an empty road now, giving them the chance to confront him.

The truck came to a stop behind an empty hotel, slated for demolition.  In the same moment John and Sam started forward, Azazel and Alistair both got out of the truck with guns immediately trained on them.  Sam and John stopped their movements and narrowed their eyes at them.

“C’mere, doggy!” Alistair taunted with a grin.

John snarled and bristled, digging his claws into the ground before surging forward.  John took Alistair’s bullet in stride, while Azazel’s struck the ground just millimeters from his foot.  John went for Alistair first, opening is jaw wide and clamping down on Alistair’s wrist.  John whipped his head back and forth, throwing the gun from Alistair’s hand and more than likely dislocating his wrist in his efforts to tear his hand off.

Before Azazel had a chance to take aim, Sam was on him; sinking his teeth into his upper arm.  In reaction to the bite, Azazel pulled the trigger and shot his tire.  He switched his gun to his other hand and pointed it between Sam’s eyes, squeezing the trigger when they widened.  Sam let go and dropped to the ground, narrowly avoided the bullet as it cut the top of his head and clipped his tail.  In the same motion, he lunged and bit into Azazel’s calf.  He wretched his head to the side, tearing out a chunk of flesh.  Azazel screamed in pain, collapsing to the ground and trying to cover the gaping wound.

The tail end of his scream was accented by the sound of snapping bone; John had broken Alistair’s forearm.  John all but spit the broke limb from his mouth and Alistair stumbled back.  But he didn’t more than two steps before John was clamping down on him again, this time down by his ankle.  He planted one paw on his just above his knee and jerked his head up, splintering the bones of his knee and scraping his ankle bones with his teeth as the resistance to movement forced him to let go.  John snarled and clawed Alistair’s thigh as he spun to go for his upper body.

Azazel reached for his gun with a trembling hand, only for it to be swallowed as fangs sank into his forearm.  Sam flatted his ears, bristling and growling around the hand in his mouth.  Azazel tried to free his hand, but for all the writhing he could manage, he could barely get Sam to budge even a little bit.  Azazel gave a short cry as he let go of his leg to try to pry Sam’s mouth open.  The effort was met with Sam opening his mouth a bit and biting down harder in a slightly different spot.  He turned his head and torqued Azazel’s arm, snapping his elbow like a twig.

In the meantime, Alistair had been trying to shield himself with his somewhat good arm, only to have it practically shredded to the bone.  John ground his teeth lightly on it as he snarled and glared down at Alistair, daring him to try anything else.

“Alright!” Alistair cried, “What do you want, you damn mutt?”

John crushed the bone in his jaws, just for the insult.  Alistair wailed in pain as John dropped the limp arm and stepped off him.  Alistair made an effort to cradle his arms together as he rolled on his side, but they were unresponsive.

Sam narrowed his eyes at Azazel as a low warning rumbled through his chest.  He back off Azazel just enough to give himself some room to transform; followed by John.

“I wanna know where the hell my son is,” John growled.

“Tough luck, mutt—“

John ground his heel into Alistair’s broken knee, tearing another scream from him.

“We don’t know!” Azazel barked.

“The hell do you mean you don’t know?” John snapped, “You had him!”

“Emphasis on ‘ _had_ ’,” Alistair spit.

John curled his lip in warning down at him.

“Where is he then?” Sam demanded.

“Damned if we know,” Azazel replied.

“Did he escape?”

“No.  We know how to lock up a dog,” Azazel breathed laugh.

Sam dropped down to Azazel’s level and placed a hand on his broken arm.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.  What did you say?” Sam asked.

“We just do our job,” Azazel swallowed, “We had a contract to catch one of you.  All three, actually.  And deliver you to a buyer.  That’s it.”

“Why us?”

“Purely coincidence there, Sammy,” Azazel managed a weak smile.

John crossed over to Azazel in two strides, pushing Sam aside and taking his place.

“Who did you sell him to?” John asked through gritted teeth.

“All we know is his name’s Michael,” Azazel replied.

“You wanna know anything more, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” Alistair commented.

Sam gave him a tired glare; the jokes were already wearing thin.

“Then who do we need to find?” Sam asked.

“Crowley.”

“Any more details than that?” Sam pressed.

“It’s probably a fake name and he uses burner phones,” Alistair laughed.

Sam moved to tweak one of his broken bones, but even the threat only made Alistair laugh harder.  Sam blanched inwardly and drew back.

“How did you find Crowley?” John asked.

“He found us.  Heard about what we did and came to us with an offer,” Azazel replied, “You’ll just have to bait yourselves if you want a prayer.”

John huffed and stood up.

“Let’s go, Sam,” John muttered.

“Not gonna finish the job?” Alistair teased.

“You’re not worth the effort,” John spat, then turned to Azazel, “You on the other hand…”

John started back at Azazel, transforming back into a wolf as he dropped down.  Azazel scrambled back from the wolf stalking closer to him.  John pounced on him, locking his teeth around Azazel’s neck.  Azazel’s neck broke before a panicked cry could rise up, instead coming out as a pathetic gurgle muted by the sound of breaking vertebrae.  John dropped the lifeless body and started off again away from him.

Sam watched him go, feeling an odd sense of justice and relief.  He had never known Mary, but his whole life had been chasing down this man who killed his mother.  And now that man was dead, John had his revenge.  Now the only drive left to them was finding Dean. 

Sam glanced down at Alistair, who was either unconscious from pain or was silently dying; Sam hoped for the latter.  He stepped over Alistair’s body and walked to the truck.  He pushed the open door farther open and leaned in, rifling through the strewn about objects until he found a phone.  He scowled the smart phone, wondering what kind of password he’d need.  He pressed the button and the lock screen came up. 

Facial recognition.

Sam raised his eyebrows and shrugged.  That worked out quite nicely.  He walked back over to Alistair and grabbed his jaw, moving his head to look at the phone screen.  It took the phone a moment to identify him, but it worked.  He let Alistair’s face loll to the side again and tapped the phone icon, then typing in Castiel’s phone number.  Despite what Castiel might think, Sam was very quick to memorize his phone number.  He immediately memorized any phone numbers that might be important one day.  He held the phone up and listened to the ringer, waiting for Castiel to answer.  It only rang twice before Castiel answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cas?”

“Sam?”

“Yeah, I, uh… borrowed a phone,” Sam quirked a half smile.

“To be honest, I don’t particularly care how you got a phone,” Castiel admitted.

“Right.  So, listen.  We caught up with Alistair and Azazel and…they don’t have Dean.”

“What?” Castiel squawked.

“They— They sold him.  They don’t know to who or where they went or anything, they just know the guy’s first name.  And considering the situation, the guy probably used a fake name anyway.”

“But… but what about…?” Castiel trailed off, sounding distant.

“Azazel’s dead.  Pretty sure Alistair is too.  If he’s not, he will be in a couple minutes,” Sam glanced down at him and sighed, “I don’t know what we’re gonna do now.”

“There’s nothing to follow?  You can’t— I don’t know, track this person by their alias or something?” Castiel asked.

“His name’s Michael, that’s a pretty generic name,” Sam said flatly, “But maybe we can find the guy who, I guess, conducted the sale or whatever.  That guy goes by Crowley and I don’t know about you, but I never met anyone who used that name.”

Sam waited a second for Castiel to reply, but he didn’t say anything.  Sam knitted his brow together and looked at the phone screen, checking to see if the call had dropped.

“Cas?  Hello?” Sam asked.

“You still there, Cas?”

“Y-yes.  Sam, I have to go.  I need to make another call.”

“Alright, then…  So like I said, I’m not sure what were gonna do, but I’ll try to keep you posted,” Sam said.

“Please do, thank you.”

Sam ended the call and stared at the phone.  He’d like to keep it, having a deadman’s phone on hand was much more convenient than having to steal another or stealing clothes to be publicly decent enough to use a public phone.  But then there was the problem of carrying it.  Sam sighed and erased the call history off the phone before breaking it and chucking it in a dumpster around the corner.

 

               

Castiel could honestly say he felt shell shocked at the moment.  There was no way the world could be so small. 

“Boy, you look like you’re gonna heave,” Bobby commented.

“Uh, I’m sorry, I just had a, um… Personal issue come up.”

“Someone in some serious trouble?” Bobby asked.        

“Yes, very much,” Castiel nodded.

“That’s all I wanna know, the less I know the better.”

Castiel was glad Bobby didn’t press for more detail, he didn’t think he could come up with a halfway decent lie. 

Bobby wrote down the payment Castiel had given him and did a little math on another piece of paper.  Castiel had asked him once why he didn’t use his phone, or even a regular calculator, and Bobby had just grumbled something about being old fashioned and liked using his head.

“Alright, just seven hundred more bucks,” Bobby said.

Castiel nodded numbly.  It was less than the other payments had been, which he’d be grateful for if he hadn’t gotten that phone call.  Castiel nearly walked into the door on his way out.  Bobby asked if he was sure he was alright, to which Castiel responded with a few stammered sentences and nervous gestures before just excusing himself.  He walked quickly to his truck and dialed Gabriel’s phone number as he shut the door and started the truck.

Castiel waited anxiously as the phone continued to ring.  As soon as Gabriel’s voicemail started, Castiel hung up and dialed again as he left Bobby’s.  The phone rang until voicemail again and Castiel cursed under his breath, redialing again and angrily wishing for Gabriel to pick up his phone.  Halfway through, Gabriel answered this time.

“Jeez, can’t you just leave a message at the beep?” Gabriel complained.

“I need to know what Michael bought.”

“Curiosity killin’ you that bad, huh?”

“Something like that,” Castiel replied tightly.

“Tundra wolf?  I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention.  I just know it’s some rare wolf,” Gabriel shrugged.

“What’s Michael number?” Castiel asked, “Or better, what’s his address?”

Castiel had had little contact with his family after moving out of his parents’ house years ago.  The only contact he did have was just Gabriel, who was the only one who made an active effort in that.  Castiel hadn’t spoken to either Michael or Lucifer since he’d moved out.

“You wanna see it that bad?” Gabriel laughed, “Can’t blame ya, I wanna see it too.”

“Gabriel.”

“Pushy, pushy…” Gabriel sighed, “I’ll text both to you, okay?”

“Alright.”

A moment later, Castiel’s phone buzzed with a text.  He thanked Gabriel and hung up before he could carry on the conversation.  He glanced at the message; Michael lived in Las Vegas.  Castiel considered just going to Michael’s house, showing up at the door unannounced.  But because of their lack of communication over the last several years, that would be extremely suspicious.  In fact, contacting Michael in anyway would seem suspicious, especially with Castiel having a specific, if not strange, goal in mind.

Castiel sighed and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat.  He thought for a while on what would be a good and conspicuous plan.  By the time he got home, he considered just calling Michael and striking up a conversation.  Maybe something about having an epiphany about the importance of family to explain his sudden call.  The more Castiel thought about, the more convoluted of an idea it seemed.  Who knew how long he’d have to keep it up or how long it would take to getting around to Dean?  He didn’t have the patience for such a thing.

Instead, Castiel decided he’d just figure out what to say on the spot.  He looked at his phone and took a deep breath, hitting Michael’s number.

               

Michael glanced at his phone, knitting his brow as he saw ‘ _Castiel’_ displayed on the screen.  He’d forgotten he even had his brother’s number saved.  Michael shrugged and swiped his thumb to the left, ignoring the call.  They hadn’t spoken in years, whatever Castiel had to say now couldn’t be that important.

He parked his truck down the road from the MGM Grand and got out to walk closer to the hotel-casino.  He took a slightly more scenic path around to the back of the hotel, coming up to a door guarded by two men.  Both of them tensed at the sound of someone approaching, but relaxed a bit when they saw it was someone who frequented.  They didn’t even bother questioning Michael as he came up to him, instead just opening the door for him. 

He gave a short nod of thanks and proceeded down the hallway.  He always hated how blank and bland it was in comparison to the rest of the building.  He rounded the corner and went down another hallway, coming up to a door marked _‘Cuthbert Sinclair_ ’.  For someone who hated their named so much and preferred to go by ‘Magnus’, which in Michael’s opinion was equally stupid, it never failed to surprise him the name plate didn’t read different.

He knocked once on the door before letting himself in.  Magnus looked up from his computer and smiled at him.

“I’m a little surprised to see you here, Michael.  I don’t believe you have any bets to collect on.”

“No, I’m here for a different reason.”

“Oh?”

“I have a fighter to register.”

“So soon?  If I’m right, your last only…passed about six months ago?” Magnus thought aloud, “Well, that would explain your aggressive betting then.  What do you have?”

“A skinwalker.”

Magnus looked up curiously, waiting a moment for some kind of follow up.

“A skinwalker,” Magnus repeated, “You want to register a skinwalker for the fights?”

Michael nodded.

“If I may ask, why?”

“I’ve heard they’re excellent fighters,” Michael replied simply.

“Well, yes.  But are you aware of why there are none in these fighting rings?” Magnus asked.

“I can’t say that I am.  Is there a rule against them?”

“No, not explicitly.  But it is strongly advised against it, for the safety of all.”

Michael narrowed his eyes.

“I wrote a paper on it a while back, before I took this position.  You may want to read it before registering your skinwalker, even before you start training him,” Magnus advised, “I’ve heard how…rigorous your training can be.”

“With any luck, this one won’t need training.”

Magnus turned to his computer and typed away, pulling up a document and printing it.  Michael watched the printer as it spit out page after page of Magnus’ work.  He mentally groaned as the pile continued to grow.  After over two dozen pages printed, the machine finally stopped.  Magnus grabbed the small stack and clipped them together, then offered it out to Michael.

“I don’t expect you’ll read the entire thing,” Magnus assumed, “But at least the first five pages.  After doing so, I’ll gladly register your fighter.  But if he reaches this point, he won’t be allowed near the ring.”

Michael took the papers, skimming over the first page.

“And what point is that?” Michael asked.

“Hysteria,” Magnus replied simply.

Michael glanced up at him.

“Take that home and give it read,” Magnus said.

Michael scowled at the dismissive tone, but complied.  Regardless of whatever Magnus’ paper said, he would be bringing Dean into the fighting ring.  He thought about not even reading the paper, but curiosity started to get the better of him.

By the time he got home, he was itching to know what was written.  He went straight for the couch, dropping onto it and settling in to read the lengthy paper.  He skipped the first two pages, which only explained what skinwalkers were and a brief summary of their history.  The next two pages focused more on their cultures and current lifestyles.  Upon reading how many were acclimated to living in disguise as humans, thus lacking fighting abilities, Michael glared at the paper.  If Crowley had sold him one like that, there would be hell.

The fifth page then briefly addressed the thinning of a skinwalker’s bloodline, either leading them more towards a dog or a human.  With Dean having been a wolf the entire time, Michael was sure if he’d suffered any thinning, he was on the dog end of the spectrum.  But as he continued, he realized that for Dean’s size, he was still a pure bloodline.  The second half of the page finally got to what Michael wanted to know about; hysteria.

_It should be noted that the skinwalker race seems to suffer a strange mental affliction.  As said before, skinwalkers are pack-minded creatures.  They remain in groups of at least three or four and communicate with each other via ‘telepathic connections’ when in the feral form.  It was previously thought this connection’s only purpose was communication.  In speaking with a number of skinwalkers, it appears this connection also serves to stabilize a skinwalker’s mental health.  The stress of physical transformations, mindsets and instincts wears heavily on the mind._

_When asked about their cousins, the werewolves, the skinwalkers said their connection serves for communication only.  Because of their regulated and infrequent transformations, werewolves do not require any kind of mental stabilizer._

_If a skinwalker is separated from its pack, it may succumb to the affliction known as ‘hysteria’.  The degradation of its mental health into a psychotic state.  The rate of degradation varies depending on the skinwalker and its bloodline.  Those with thinner bloodlines will succumb much more slowly, if they are to be afflicted at all.  Those with the strongest bloodline, pure bloodlines especially, will fall to hysteria the fastest._

_The symptoms of the disease may be hard to notice first, as they are typical reactions to being separated from family.  The symptoms include skittish behavior, distrust, fear, short temper, hostility and depressive episodes.  The progression of the disease may also be hastened by stress.  As the disease progresses, fear, short temper and hostility begin to worsen.  The only known remedy is to reunite the skinwalker with a pack by this point.  If they are not reunited, hysteria sets in._

_There are no documented cases of hysteria, as the skinwalkers do not record such things.  They have only stories to go by.  The skinwalkers I interviewed advised me to see their great-grandfather, who supposedly witnessed a hysterical skinwalker first hand.  The following is his recountance of the event:_

_“That was something I would never forget.  None of us would.  We lived at the foot of Tahoma, what you all call Mount Rainier now.  It was always so quiet and peaceful there, so long as the mountain was in good spirits.  The only danger we were ever met with there was the mountain’s rage in the winter and spring._

_Many skinwalkers traveled to visit our home, large packs and small packs.  Once in a blue moon, only a single skinwalker would come.  We were always quick to accommodate them, help them recover before they became too unstable.  So, it wasn’t too much of a surprise when one night a single skinwalker wandered into our home.  Just as with other individuals, we wanted to help him.  But something was very wrong, we could all feel it in our bones.  He stood completely frozen at the edge of the fire light, head low and staring at us with wide, dark eyes.  Like he couldn’t see us.  Tentatively, we reached out to try to speak with him.  But the response was…  It was a shrill noise.  Like the static of a television, nails on a chalkboard, pained screaming.  All at once.  I’d never heard anything like it._

_But that god awful noise was enough to tell us that this one had fallen already.  A few of us had hope that they could still be saved, that maybe he wasn’t too far gone.  Up to this point, he hadn’t so much as blinked.  The second one of us stepped towards him, the noise of his mind amplified and he dropped his mouth open, letting out the most vicious and bone chilling sound, a cross between a hiss and snarl.  It was enough to stop most everyone, but there was one who still continued forward.  Damned fool couldn’t ever be swayed by anything.  He kept forward and the other went on edge, flattening his ears and crouching low._

_Then… in the blink of eye, he sprang up.  Ripped his throat out before he even knew what was going on.  Then he started tearing at the body, rending flesh from bone like a maniac.  Everyone lunged for him then, he had to be stopped.  Killed.  But nothing seemed to hurt him.  If anything… it only spurred him on.  Anyone who managed to bite or claw him was killed a second later.  He’d crush their skulls in his jaw, snap their legs like twigs.  He would tear their flesh, gouging so deeply and exposing bone and organ._

_Our pack had been over fifty strong, all of us related to the wolf.  Not some house pet dog.  But we were nothing to him.  In less than a half hour, so few of remained I could count us on one hand.  It wasn’t enough for him, all the death he’d caused.  He’d pounce on the corpses and rip their organs out, skin their fur, chew on their bones.  Then he stopped completely, staring wide eyed again.  We were too afraid to move, too afraid to be so brutally massacred like the rest of our family.  We decided it was best to run, to find another pack and warn them, find haven.  I remember someone stepped on a twig and the… the beast turned his head towards us.  We could see then, by the light of the fire… his eyes were blacker than a raven’s feather.  There was no iris, no pupil, no— sclera.  It was all black._

_He let out that menacing snarl again and we turned tail.  We ran as hard as we could and he chased us.  For miles we ran, down the glaciers and through the forests, the rivers and their valleys.  He closed in on us so steadily, sinking his teeth into the leg of whoever he could catch and tearing them back.  He always fell back, to make sure to finish the kill.  The wailing howls echoed off the trees, startling the animals who lived there.  It became a full stampede of everything that lived there._

_Only my sister and I made it off the mountain.  We never stopped.  We could hear him behind us, falling back only when he caught some poor creature.  We made it to the Snoqualmie pack and had only a moment to tell them of the monster following us.  Again, he froze and stared at everyone with those wide black eyes.  My sister screamed then, not howled— she actually managed a scream.  That set the monster off another rampage.  The Snoqualmie pack suffered worse than us.  Their pack had been so much bigger, with older and stronger skinwalkers.  They were still nothing to this—_ thing _.  He tore them asunder and— and he enjoyed it._

_It was only by sheer luck that it was stopped.  His rampage had led him to the edge of the falls.  The recent rainstorms there had slicked the stones and loosened the ground.  He stepped too close the edge and the ground gave out.  He fell over two hundred fifty feet, crushed by the falls’ might against the rocks below.  To be sure, the remainder of the pack ran down the bottom of the falls and found him writhing and snarling on the banks.  He didn’t seem to realize his back was obviously broken in half and his legs were paralyzed, he saw us and just wanted to keep going._

_They approached him cautiously and converged on him all at once.  Two still were killed, but the pack leader managed to break his neck.  He struggled weakly, still driven by madness.  His throat was ripped, but he kept moving.  Laying there, gurgling and glaring up with those horrid eyes.  They had to tear him apart, limb from limb, flesh from bone to make him stop.  When he did finally die, his spirit came free in a plume of black smoke.  It swirled and ripped around, like it didn’t know where to go.  It was caught by the falls then, trapped and drawn in.  The waters contained the tainted spirit and slowly began to purge it._

_The waters there had healing properties, much like many of the lakes and rivers of Mount Tahoma.  His soul was put to rest then, followed by a ceremony for the dead.  Those of that survived felt tainted from his presence and bathed in the waters until we could no longer feel his wicked touch.”_

_When asked if these ‘healing waters’ could have cured the hysterical skinwalker, he was unsure.  He had never met one who had become fully hysterical until then and had the luck of never seeing another._

Michael set the paper in his lap, staring blankly ahead.  Then he tossed the paper to the side and got up, going down the hall to the stairs that led to his basement.  Much like rest of the house, the basement was decorated and furnished lavishly to make it less of a basement and more of a regular floor of the house.  He went to the far end of the basement to a door that opened into a small lobby area between both it and another door that led outside.  In that space, there was what one would assume to be a closet, which was what Michael had intended its appearance to be.

In reality, the door was actually made of solid metal and designed to cancel noise.  in fact, the entire wall it was set in had the same design feature.  Michael took a key out from under the mat lying in front of the door that led outside and unlocked the metal.  As soon as he opened it, he was greeted with silence.  This was the first that Dean had been quiet since he’d brought him home.

Michael scrunched up his face and stepped through the door, closing it behind him and making his way down the flight of stairs.  The area opened up to a small area with a classic prison bar door at the opposite end.  Michael strode up to the bars and kneeled down beside them, grabbing on to them with one hand for balance as he peered in the dark cell.

“Dean.”

No response.

“ _Dean_.”

Still silence.

There was a tiny speck of fear in the back of Michael’s mind, planted by what he’d just read.  He licked his lips nervously and repositioned himself.

“Dean!”

This time he heard the slow drag of a chain across the floor as Dean moved.  Michael ducked his head lower to try and see Dean’s eyes as he moved closer.  He let out a small breath of relief to see they were still green, though less vibrant.  Michael reached through the bars with his free hand to pet the side of Dean’s face.

Dean flinched away from his hand and eyed him carefully.  He slinked back from the metal door, all the while keeping an eye on Michael.

“Oh, please don’t be like that.”

Michael shifted his weight and strained his arm further.  Dean ducked down low and growled in warning.  Michael frowned and stood up, wiping the grease and metal flecks from his hands on his jeans.

“Well, I suppose I’ll let you go back to sleeping.  Or whatever it is you were doing,” Michael mumbled, “You’ve got a big day coming up soon.”

Dean perked his ears up at that, but Michael said nothing more.  Michael pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the name _‘Cuthbert Sinclair’_.  The phone rang only twice before Magnus answered.

“Hello?”

“It’s Michael.”

“I didn’t expect to hear back so soon.  I take it you’ve made a decision…?”

“Yes, I’m still going register him.”

“Not the decision I was hoping for, I must admit…” Magnus sighed, “I’ve got two registration times open this week.  Tomorrow afternoon at three and tomorrow night at eight thirty.”

“Three o’clock.  I want him registered and in the ring as soon as possible,” Michael answered.

“Of course.  I would too, who knows how long he’ll be good for.”

Michael clenched his jaw and hung up.  He didn’t need to ask where to go for the registration or what to bring, he still remembered from the last time.  All he needed was to bring Dean and a few things to keep him restrain as Magnus completed the registration and inspection.  Michael moved to the side of the room to a tall cabinet that held the restraints of his last fighter.  It had been a kitsune, considerably smaller than Dean.  At best, the leg restraint could possibly work as a muzzle.  But beyond that, Michael would need a whole new set.

He sighed, looking at the now useless equipment and remembering the kitsune fondly.  She had been his for seven years and though she may not have won every fight, she won often enough for Michael to be able to afford his lavish home and everything in it.  Six months ago, she been pitted against an okami.  The okami had been faster and stronger than his kitsune, which partially his own fault.  He hadn’t been feeding the kitsune enough pituitary glands to keep her strength up.  The okami had torn her heart right out after just a few minutes.

At least Dean’s diet wasn’t so specific.  It would much easier to keep him fed, though Michael was unaware of the quantity of food Dean could eat.

Michael closed the cabinet and went back over to Dean’s cell.  Dean refused to come forward at all this time, making it more difficult for Michael to figure out how big he needed to get the new restraints and harnesses.  He shrugged and stood up, deciding he’d just guess and bring them home to fit tonight.  If they didn’t fit, he’d still have time before tomorrow to exchange them. 

He turned on his heels and left the room, going back up the stairs and to his living room.  He looked at the discarded paper on the couch and thought about reading more of it, but shook his head.  If he did, he would end up having less time to find properly fitting restraints.  Michael grabbed his keys and headed out.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out to see Castiel’s name displayed on screen again.  Strange that he would call him twice in a day now, when they hadn’t spoken in years.  There had to be some kind of corresponding thing that would prompt him to call.  He ignored the call once more and tried to think of something would spark his younger brother’s interest.  He wracked his brain in thought, but could come up with nothing.  Gabriel was the only link between the two of them and nothing he had told Gabriel could possibly be of so much interest to Castiel.

Michael’s phone began vibrating again, this time with Gabriel’s name.

“Hello, Gabriel,” Michael answered.

“Hey, bro!  How’s it goin’?”

“Just fine.”

“Good, good.  Hey, so, listen.  I told Cassie you got some wolf and I guess he’s just dyin’ to see it,” Gabriel said, “Said he’s tried calling you a couple times already.”

“I saw that, but I wasn’t sure why he was calling.  Why does he want to see it?  Why not just go to a zoo?”

“Maybe it’s that whole first-hand experience type thing,” Gabriel guessed, “Y’know, seeing something at the zoo isn’t nearly as cool as seeing it free.  Well, kinda free.”

“Mm-hmm.  If that is the case, Castiel will have to wait.  He’s not exactly well behaved at the moment.”

“Maybe you should take him to doggie training class,” Gabriel laughed.

“If only it was so easy…”

“You picked out a name for him yet?” Gabriel asked.

“He already has one.  Dean.”

“…Dean?” Gabriel repeated quietly.

“Yes.  I didn’t choose it, but I think he’s a little old to be renamed,” Michael said.

“That’s the…” Gabriel trailed off.

“It’s what?”

“Oh, nothin’.  I’m just getting a little distracted and confused,” Gabriel dismissed, “Lemme know when he learns to behave himself, I wanna see him too, okay?”

“Of course.”

“Ttyl, bro.”

“Bye.”

Michael stared at his phone after the call ended.  He went through his house swiftly, making sure everything was shut tight and locked before he left.  There was something going on and he had a strong suspicion it had to do with Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this would've been done sooner if my roommate hadn't dragged me into Attack on Titan and made me such trash for it. anyway, it'll probably be another month or so for the next update because i need to work on my other fic [Seven Days](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1443685/chapters/3037018) which hasn't been updated since January, due to this fic's popularity


	20. Hallucinate

Castiel stuffed another shirt and pair of pants into a bag.  He had the weekend off, but he was certain two days wouldn’t be enough.  He’d told Ellen there was a family emergency, something about one of his brothers being in the hospital in critical condition; she gave him the week off.  Hopefully that would be enough time.  He’d considered flying, or even taking the train, to speed things up, but then he wondered what he’d do if Dean wasn’t well enough to make it back on his own.  Castiel took a deep breath and zipped up the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder and starting for the door, pausing only for a moment when his phone rang.

Castiel frowned, but answered anyway.

“Hey, Cassie, I got a couple questions for ya,” Gabriel said.

“Can they wait?  I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“I’m gonna say noooo….”

“Alright, what?”

“What’s your boytoy’s name?”

“Seriously, Gabriel?” Castiel snapped, “That _can_ wait.”

“Now hold on just a sec, this actually is important.”

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Is it Dean?” Gabriel asked.

“Yes, it’s Dean,” Castiel replied tightly.

“Okay, and where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel sighed, “I haven’t seen him for a little while.”

He heard Gabriel humming as he walked outside.

“What’s this got to do—“

“What’re you doing now?” Gabriel interrupted.

“I’m… I’m, uh, going to see Michael,” Castiel admitted, “And _his new pet_.”

“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm… Now, I just got a feeling here, but is there something you wanna tell me?”

Castiel froze with his hand on the truck door.

“You being quiet makes it more suspicious,” Gabriel commented.

“…Can we talk about this later?” Castiel asked.

“Sure.”

“Than—“

“At Michael’s.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Well, I got questions for him too and he’ll probably just hang up on me.  So, I’ll meet ya there and we can all have some quality brother time, sound cool?”

“Uh— No, Gabriel, that’s not—“

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Gabriel chimed, “See ya in a couple days!”

Before Castiel could even get another syllable out, Gabriel had hung up on him.  Castiel gritted his teeth, lightly hitting his phone against his forehead a few times.  He held it there for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh and looking up to the sky.  Castiel set his jaw and jerked the truck door open.

 

Dean moved begrudgingly slow, making it a point to almost literally drag one paw at a time.  He could see it was wearing on Michael’s patience, which was exactly what he wanted.  Michael had once again put a muzzle and collar on him, leading him forward with a chain.  In addition to that, Michael had cuffed all four legs, chains tethering his forelegs together and his hind legs together; one chain connecting the two others, inhibiting his ability to run.  Truthfully, even a normal walk or trot would be difficult because his stride was so limited.  Putting the cuffs on hadn’t even been a challenge either, Michael had gotten lucky with Dean being fast asleep; that’s what Dean was most bitter about.

Dean glanced around the hallway, noting how dreary it was.  It was a wide concrete hall with a low ceiling, if it could be called that.  It was just crisscrossing pipes.  There were several other connecting hallways with faint drifting smells.  He could smell blood and decay, accompanied by something like a freshly sterilized hospital room.

It made his skin crawl.

He turned his attention forward again when Michael gave another tug.  Two men stood outside of a pair of white doors.  They weren’t surprised to see Michael, put when their eyes followed the leash down to Dean, they tensed up visibly.  As they approached, the two men stepped to the side and pushed the doors open for them.  Dean made sure to growl lowly at them as he passed, taking silent pride in one of them jumping.

Michael tutted at him for the action, but said nothing more as the doors swung closed behind them.  The room they stood in now had that same sterile scent, but looked nothing like a hospital room.  Dean cocked his head to the side, not knowing what any of the machines in the room were for.

“Ah, Michael and…?”

Dean’s head snapped in the direction of the voice.

“Dean,” Michael answered.

“Dean…” Magnus hummed, “Must not’ve been born feral.”

Magnus moved closer, keeping his attention on Dean.

“I wouldn’t know,” Michael said, “I didn’t care to ask.  But the hunters said he was somewhat domestic.”

Magnus hummed again, kneeling down beside Dean.  Dean eyed him suspiciously and stepped back as Magnus half shuffled around him for a different look.

“Well, just for his size alone, I’m certain he’s a purebred.  We’ll find out if he’s feral with the testing,” Magnus said, “Shall we get started?”

Michael nodded, handing the leash over to Magnus who then led Dean over and onto a flat metal plat.  Something chirped to Dean’s left and he looked over to see read numbers displayed.  Magnus huffed and looked down at him.  He kneeled beside Dean and unfastened the muzzle from his face, tossing it aside.  Without prompting, Michael handed him two keys.  Magnus used them to unclasp the cuffings and collar.  Dean couldn’t be happier to be without them and started to dance around a little, only for Michael to snap a warning at him and Magnus to hold his chest.

Dean glared up at Michael and then at Magnus, warning him to stop touching him.  Magnus withdrew his hands and the machine chirped again with a different number.  Magnus seemed happier with it.  He ducked his head down lower, looking at something just over Dean’s shoulder.  Dean turned his head to see a row of tick marks and numbers beneath the red numbers.  That row was intercepted by a similar one standing vertical.

Dean perked up his ears at the sound of Magnus moving and looked to see him picking up a clip board from a nearby free standing, short podium.  He scribbled something down on it, then put it back.  He moved over to another machine and turned to Dean with a smile, patting his thighs.  Dean gave a gruff bark.

“Come here, Dean,” Magnus said, repeating the motion.

Dean gave the best bitchface he could manage.  Michael nodded his head in Magnus’ direction and Dean sighed, walking over to him.  Magnus picked up a stick with what looked to be two pads and a spring on the end of it.  Dean looked at it curiously, noticing it had been thoroughly beaten.  Magnus muttered something to himself and tore the pads off, revealing the metal underneath to be just as beaten, then placed undamaged pads on the end.  Dean stared at him wonder what it was he was supposed to do, until Magnus prodded at his mouth with the stick. 

Dean snarled at both him and the stick and backed up, but Magnus did it again.  He kept prodding at Dean’s mouth until he got fed up.  With a growl bordering on a roar, Dean sank his teeth into the padded end of the stick and ripped it from Magnus’ hand.  Another machine chirped, but Dean paid it no mind.  Again, Magnus wrote something down on the clip board before moving to another machine.  Dean was more reluctant to follow this time.

And rightly so.  Every time Magnus and Michael moved him somewhere else, he was prodded and antagonized into attacking something.  Sometimes several times if they weren’t happy with how he did it.  They’d tried to make him run on a treadmill, but it was too short for the lengthy gait of his full run.  They spent hours testing him and writing things down, pushing Dean until he outright refused to cooperate.

By that point, he’d backed himself into a corner, bristling and growling through bared teeth.  He’d been cooperating, why did they keep insisting on torturing him like this?  Magnus and Michael had tried to talk to him, making promises that they weren’t going to hurt him anymore.  And they might’ve been telling the truth now, he’d already dealt with every machine and device in the room.  Magnus sighed and resigned himself, going to call a guard in to tranquilize Dean.  But Michael wouldn’t let him, he was still adamant about building some kind of trust with Dean; which, he seemed to be doing in a rather odd way thus far.  Magnus and Michael bickered back and forth while Dean remained tense and crouched in the corner.

Eventually Magnus got fed up and took his clip board over to a computer.  Michael turned to Dean and kneeled in front of him, slowing reaching a hand out.  Dean flattened his ears again and clacked his teeth at him.  Michael pulled back and held his hands up innocently.

“Since you behaved, for the most part, I won’t put the muzzle back on.  How does that sound?” Michael offered.

“Ludacris,” Magnus called.

Michael pursed his lips, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him.

“If you behave, you’ll get more rewards like that.”

Dean stared at him warily.

“I know you can understand me, Crowley tells me you’re fairly intelligent.”

Michael stood again and went to collect the cuffs and collar to place back on Dean.  Dean started resisting, only for Michael to tut at him and remind him that good behavior meant less restraints.  Dean stopped resisting to test Michael’s word and Michael picked up on it.  As a sign of good faith, Michael didn’t tether the chain binding his front legs with the one binding his hind legs.  It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

“Alright, he’s registered now,” Magnus said, “If you’d like, I can print a copy of his statistics.”     

“Please.  When’s the earliest fight?” Michael asked.

“Anxious, aren’t we?” Magnus teased.

He went to another screen on the computer and scrolled down, looking for an open fight.

“It looks like someone backed down from a fight this morning.  That leaves a fight with wraith open for tonight at eleven.  Interested?”

Michael glanced back and Dean, then back to Magnus.

“A wraith should be no trouble,” Michael smiled.

Magnus filled the slot with Dean’s file.  It had only a blank square in place of a photo, but it would be filled after the fight.  Magnus preferred action shots for the profiles to staged pictures.  The wraith’s profile showed the side of its rotten face as it held its victim, unseen in the picture, to the wall while drawing its arm back for the final blow.  The picture did have some level of intimidation, but Michael had seen a few of this wraith’s fights; it lost just as often as it won.

Michael smiled to himself and clipped the leash to Dean’s collar.  Dean grumbled in annoyance when the chain was tugged, but complied.  He would cooperate enough to get as many restraints off himself as he could.  Michael led him out of the room, thanking Magnus and promising to see him later.

 

Castiel’s lit up and vibrated in the cup holder.  He sighed and glanced down at the screen, now displaying Gabriel’s name.  He grimaced and thought about answering, but decided to reach down and swipe to the left of the screen, declining the call.  A few seconds later, his phone gave a short buzz.  Castiel rolled his eyes and opened the text message.

_’The fuck-you-button?  Really bro?’_

Castiel shook his head at Gabriel’s name for the decline option as another message popped up.

_‘Where you at?’_

‘ _Pocatello.’_

_‘Isn’t that a mushroom?’_

_‘Portobello is.’_

_‘Same difference.  Where is it?’_

_‘Southern Idaho.’_

_‘…Oh my god, are you driving?  Why?!  It’s gonna take forever!’_

Castiel didn’t bother with a response; he was well aware of how long it would take.  He set the phone back in the cup holder, ignoring the short buzzes from Gabriel’s texts.  After a few minutes, the texts stopped and let Castiel drive in peace.  Nearly two hours had gone by before Castiel stopped for gas for the second time.  Trucks weren’t the most gas efficient, his especially with its age.  But at least it meant he got to get out and stretch his legs every once in a little while.  As anxious as he was to get to Vegas, he hated sitting in the car for hours on end.  He was never much of a road trip person, it was just so boring.  Especially since he was doing this by himself.

Castiel filled the tank and walked the longer way around his truck to the driver’s side.  When he got in, he saw his phone once again lit up and vibrating with a call; this time from an unfamiliar number.  He went to decline the call, but paused when he wondered if it was Sam calling from another borrowed phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cas, it’s Sam.  Where are you?”

“A gas station in Pocatello.  Why?”

“Why are you there?”

“Because I— I believe I know where Dean is,” Castiel replied.

“What?  How?  When did you find that out?” Sam asked quickly.

“It’s a small world, evidently,” Castiel sighed, “I’ll explain later.”

“Yeah, you will.  We must’ve just passed you not too long ago, we’re in Idaho Falls.  But we’re turning back now, apparently.  Wait for us?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, see you in a bit.”

Castiel ground his teeth, not wanting to wait if he didn’t have to.  He should’ve have just told Sam where to go and they would meet there.  Castiel sighed, at least Idaho Falls wasn’t too far.  They’d be here in less than an hour.  He started up the truck and drove to a fast food joint near the edge of town to wait for them.

Once he’d finished his food, he kept his gaze fixed outside.  He knew he didn’t have to tell them where he was, they’d find him easily.  Sure enough, not ten minutes later, he caught a movement at the edge of the parking lot.  Castiel squinted and leaned closer to the window, waiting to make sure it was Sam and John.  Another minute and he saw the shaggy fur of Sam’s back appear over the edge of the embankment.  He gathered up his wrappers and tossed them in the garbage in hurry, walking swiftly outside.  He glanced over his shoulder as he came to the truck, making sure no one was paying any attention in his direction.  The only ones looking were John and Sam peering over the curb at him.  Both of them checked around before hoping up over the edge of the embankment and stealing towards Castiel’s truck.  They jumped into the bed of the trunk and hunkered down low, keeping themselves from being seen.  Without saying anything, Castiel got in the truck and started back for the highway. 

Once they’d cleared the city and reached an empty stretch of highway, Castiel slowed to a stop.  He’d barely unbuckled when the passenger door was practically flung open.

“Where’s Dean?” John shot.

“I’m pretty sure he’s, uh— w-with my brother in Las Vegas.”

John and Sam stared at him in confusion.  Castiel motioned for them to get in the truck, he’d explain as they drove.  Sam took the middle seat, which Castiel was grateful for.  What he wasn’t particularly grateful for was their lack of clothes.  It was one thing to see Dean walking around naked nearly all the time, but it was another to see his brother and father naked as well.  On top of that, it could also pose something of problem, should Castiel get pulled over for any reason.  He reached behind his seat and fished a few clothes out of his backpack to give to them to cover themselves.  The clothes wouldn’t fit, but at least it was something.

“Before you called me after catching up with Azazel and Alistair, my brother, Gabriel, had called me to tell me about my eldest brother getting a new pet because it was causing yet another fight between him and my other brother—“

“How many brothers do you have?” Sam interrupted.

“Four,” Castiel answered, “The youngest isn’t involved in this at all.”

“Good to know,” John commented dryly.

“Any way, Gabriel called me because he wanted to complain about my two oldest brothers fighting over one getting some new exotic pet.  I didn’t think much of it until Sam called and said Dean had been sold to someone named ‘Michael’.”

“Which was probably an alias, Cas.”

“Which is my oldest brother’s name,” Castiel snipped, “And he’s the one who had just gotten a new ‘pet’.  I called Gabriel back to ask about it and he said Michael got some kind of wolf.”

“Oh my god…” Sam groaned.

“From the call this morning, Gabriel is suspicious of something.  I don’t know what, he’s only seen Dean once.  But he insisted on meeting me at Michael’s.”

“Well, we’ll just— have to hope he ends up on our side.  Or try to convince him,” Sam sighed.

Castiel grimaced.  Gabriel wasn’t one who could easily be convinced of anything.  But he also wasn’t one to choose sides, so at the very least, he wouldn’t end up any kind of enemy in all this.  Castiel ran a hand through his hair with a sigh.

They still had about seven hours of driving to go.

 

Dean had thought he was going to see Magnus again; they had come to the same hotel and gone down the same hallways.  He saw the white doors they’d gone through before, but then Michael was pulling him away from them and down a different hallway.  The faint trace scent of blood and decay became a little stronger as he was led down the new hallway.  A few more turns down different halls and muffled noises could be heard, becoming more distinct as they walked.  Dean could hear the deep roar of people cheering and hollering, nearly drowning out all other sound. 

When they approached a door with a window, giving Dean a small glimpse of the mad crowd, he dug his claws into the concrete floor.  He didn’t want the door to open and have the raw sound of uproarious crowd assault his ears.  Michael stopped and made a face of annoyance, turning to look down at Dean with a scowl.  He made no effort to reason with Dean this time, instead only pulling the leash to the side.  Dean resisted at first, but went with it when he saw the staircase off to the side.  He followed Michael’s lead down the stairs, grateful the sounds of the crowd were slowly dying as they descended.  Though Dean didn’t like the sound replacing the crowd much better.

There were panicked and angered noises rising up now, though not nearly as loud as the crowd had been.  Dean could recognize some of the noises, what they were coming from.  But others he’d never heard in his life.  He’d already been put on edge by the crowd and these new sounds were only making it worse.

The staircase came to an end, leaving them on a dirt floor with concrete walls interrupted by sets of bars; much like the ones Michael kept Dean behind at his home.  A couple of the cells were empty, some cells’ occupants lay in a motionless heap on the ground, others paced around anxiously and made distressed noises.  Dean ducked his head, flattening his ears and slowly his walk.  The first creature to suddenly ram their bars with a vicious snarl as they passed startled Dean, making him stumble over towards another cell where another creature did just the same.

Dean didn’t trust Michael, but he now kept closer to him.  He kept his eyes on the ground and ignored the other creatures.  He didn’t look up again until Michael came to a stop outside an empty cell and stood the side of the open door.  Dean cocked his head, feeling a sense of betrayal.  He’d been cooperating, why was he being moved to this cell?

Michael gestured into the cell and, for a moment, Dean contemplated biting his outstretched arm.  Dean grumbled lowly in his chest and reluctantly slunk into the cell.  This would be his last act of cooperation, unless this had some kind of big payoff. 

“All you have to do is win,” Michael said.

Dean eyed him curiously as he knelt down and removed the collar and cuffings.

“Just win and I’ll reward you handsomely,” Michael promised.

Dean stared at him, wondering what he was supposed to win.  Michael didn’t elaborate.  Instead, he just shut and locked the door, turned on his heels and went back the way they’d came.  Dean huffed and turned around in his cell.  Admittedly, it was actually a little nicer than the one at Michael’s.  It wasn’t as dank, partially thanks to the dirt and patches of bone-dry hay on the ground.  Dean grumbled and plopped himself on the ground, trying and failing to ignore the distressed noises all around him.  He tried to cover his ears with his forelegs, but it wasn’t much help.  It more uncomfortable than anything.

Dean sighed and dropped his forelegs, trying once again to simply ignore the panicked creatures and distract himself with something more pleasant.  He knew the way out of this place, he knew the guards here were wary of him.  He had no restraints on.  The second the door to his cell opened, he’d make a mad dash out.  He didn’t know where exactly he’d ended up, but it didn’t matter.  He would find his way back home; back to Castiel.

He was pulled from his thoughts by sudden screams and cheers, spurring him to his feet defensively.  He looked around wildly for the source, quickly realizing it was the mad crowd up above him.  Another cry pierced through their cheering, one much closer to Dean.  He tentatively moved up to the bars and saw a creature he didn’t recognize being let out of its cell with the cell door closing behind it.  The creature must’ve had a similar plan to Dean’s as it started for the staircase he’d come down, but there was a set of bars in the way that hadn’t been there before.

The creature panicked, turning in anxious circles.  It didn’t want to continue down the hall, towards the roaring crowd.  A minute later, Dean could see two dark figures, much bigger than any of the guards, appear on the other side of the new bars.  One reached forward with a long, pronged stick; small bolts of blue danced between the prongs.  The figure jabbed it into the creature’s side, eliciting a sharp yelp and the creature retreating down the hall as the second figure said something incoherent into its shoulder.  There was a mechanical groan, followed by another set of bars falling from the ceiling.  The first set rose and allowed the figures to approach.

Once again, the creature was jabbed by the rod and forced into retreat as the second figure said something, resulting in new bars falling while the old ones rose.  They repeated the process, slowly chasing and forcing the creature towards the deafening crowd.  As they passed Dean’s cell, one figure looked down at Dean, giving him a feeling he would soon be the one in forced retreat.  He stared after them as they moved forward, recognizing them as humans in bulky clothing.

Several minutes later, there was a clank and Dean could no longer hear the crowd nor the creature forced towards it.  The two humans walked by, the one from before glancing down at Dean again and speaking into its shoulder, then receiving a garbled, staticy response.

Fear quickly welled up inside Dean, making him shift anxiously on his feet until he started pacing.  He took deep breaths in effort to calm himself and made an effort to hold still.  Just when he was finally starting to calm down, the roars of the crowd filled the air again along with the scent of fresh blood.  Dean’s cell door clicked and swung open.

Dean took a deep breath and bolted out, straight for the staircase, believing he could get there before the bars came down.  His efforts were rewarded by his body colliding full force with the metal and ground as he tried to dive under them.  He was just one second too slow.  He sat back and stared up the bars, tensing when he saw the two figures coming.  The one reached through with the rod, which Dean avoided easily and sank his teeth into the arm.  It wasn’t bulky clothing the person was wearing, it was armor for probably this exact situation.  Dean thrashed and wrenched their arm, forcing them to drop the rod.

Without warning, there was a sharp shock to his hind leg.  He danced back, keeping his weight off the shocked leg as it twitched with aftershocks.  He’d moved further than he thought, as bars dropped in front of him.  He cursed himself and shook his leg out, crouching low and growling.  The dropped rod was picked up as the figures came close again.  Only one ever reached through at a time and Dean would foolishly fixate on that one, giving the other the chance for a lucky strike.  Just as the creature before, Dean was slowly forced down the hallway towards a massive, open door where the crowd’s noise was the loudest he’d heard it so far.

The humans prodded him past the threshold as the heavy doors closed, much more slowly than the bars.  Dean twisted around to see a wide arena in front him, the crowd cheering up above him.  Directly in front of him was the creature that had been forced out just before him, laying in a pool of its own blood and disemboweled organs.  Dean pressed back against the shut doors, looking around frantically.  That creature wasn’t the only dead body in the arena.  Several others, at various stages of decay, lay littered around. 

There was a booming sound overhead and snapped his head up to see what looked like four massive TVs displaying numerous words and numbers as a loud voice spoke from them.  The voice was talking about him.  It was telling the crowd everything about him; what he was, how big he was, how hard he could bite, how fast he could run…  It kept talking about him until a door on the other side opened and a corpse-like creature willingly walked out. 

The voice over him called it a ‘wraith’.  He’d heard of them before, but he’d never seen one and knew very little about them.  The wraith waited patiently on the otherside, unphased by arena and the voice.  The crowd grew louder when the voice stopped and the wraith started for Dean.

It wasted no time, running straight for him.  Dean flinched and dodge to the side, putting distance between them again.  When it came for him again, he dodged once more.  Again and again and again.  Keeping distance was easy enough, it wasn’t as fast as him.  Dean was perfectly content with keeping this strategy, but the crowd was not.  The cheering turned to thunderous booing and jeering.

Dean paused and looked up at the people; many of them were trying to throw things down in the arena, but a high up fence prevented them.  Dean’s ear flicked, hearing the wraith coming for him again.  _Just win_. 

Rather than dodge and run once more, Dean sidestepped the monster and remained where he was.  The wraith staggered and spun around, swinging its arm around as spike protruded from its wrist.  Dean ducked, feeling the spike graze the top of his head.  The touch left a buzzing sensation crawling through Dean’s skin, making him shudder.  The wraith’s other hand came around to follow up, spike at the ready.  But the angle was wrong; all it managed to do was smack Dean the face and force him back a few steps.  The buzzing feeling amplified, messing with Dean’s vision slightly.

He shook his head to clear his sight and snarled at the wraith.  It charged at him again, ready to impale him with both spikes.  Dean ran to meet the wraith, snapping his jaws on one spike and snapping it like a twig.  The wraith reeled back, wailing in pain as it clutched its hand.  Dean spit the spike out, curling his lips at the slimy taste it had left in his mouth.  He turned to face the wraith again, seeing it on its knees and glaring hatefully at him.

The crowd resumed to cheering and yelling, more so as the wraith got to its feet again.  Dean watched as it relaxed its injured arm and another spike slid out.  The creature took one step and something in Dean’s mind clicked; Dean lunged for it, jaws wide open.  He broke off the second spike just as easily and twisted around for the regenerated one, but somehow missed it completely.  The monster screamed and wailed in anger in Dean’s face.  He couldn’t stand the sound, any of it any more.  It was like nails on chalkboard now.  Dean roared and sank his teeth into the wraith’s neck, snapping the spinal cord in a single bite and throwing the body to the ground.  The wraith layed still for a second before its body convulsed and it started to move again.

Up above, Michael watched from a quiet booth.  There was a small, proud smile on his face as he watched Dean start relentlessly tearing the wraith apart.  Tonight wouldn’t hold much prize money, the fight wasn’t highly anticipated because of being a new entry and the wraith’s lackluster record.  But this would open the way to higher payoffs.

“Don’t you think he’s going a bit overboard?” Magnus asked.

“Maybe a bit.  But it’s a good show,” Michael replied.

“I noticed he broke the spikes,” Magnus commented.

“I knew he was intelligent.”

“I also noticed he tried to break a third one that wasn’t there,” Magnus added.

Michael sighed and turned to face Magnus.

“You and I both know wraiths can cause hallucinations.  It’s nothing to do with your ‘hysteria’,” Michael bit, “The chemicals will work their way out of his system.  A couple hours, I’m sure.”

“You don’t seem to grasp this concept very well,” Magnus snipped, “This could very well induce and accelerate hysteria.”

“Then why would you offer this fight?” Michael quipped.

Magnus opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his tongue.  Michael cast him a sideways smirk and turned his attention back to Dean.  The wraith was long dead, but Dean seemed to be just now realizing that.  He backed away from the creature, shrinking in on himself and looking around in confusion.  Michael was sure it was the wraith’s effects already beginning to wear off.

Dean remained still and looking around, but unaware that a door had opened to let him out of the arena.  The staff gave him another minute, but he still didn’t take notice.  Three armored handlers came into the arena, approaching slowly and purposefully making noise.  Sneaking up on combatants was never a good idea, even with the protective gear.  Dean finally noticed them when they were within a few yards of him and snapped out of his stupor.  He backed away from the handlers, crouching defensively low again when he saw one with a cattle prod.  He curled his lip in warning, eyes darting between the three of them and catching sight of the open door behind them.

Dean shoved past the handlers, running right for the door.  He bolted over the threshold, stumbling on it and almost falling into the wall.  He was quick to regain his balance and dart down the dirty hallway, making a run for the stairwell.  Only to ram headfirst into a set of bars. 

He fell backwards, whining at the pain and staggering to his feet again.  His ears dropped at the barred path, turning and starting back towards the arena; only to find that door shut as well.  He heard the creak and groan of another set of bars coming down and shortening the hallway, leaving Dean with only the option of the cell that had held him prior to the fight. 

Dean eyed the cell and pointedly refused to go back inside, prompting the two handlers from before to come back down.  Dean took a few steps back, keeping out of their reach and sat down.  The handlers grumbled to themselves and for a moment, Dean was a little proud of himself.  The first handler shut off the cattle prod and collapsed it down to fit with his belt.  He then moved his hand behind his back and withdrew a gun, training red dots on Dean’s chest.  He perked his ears up, craning his head to look down at the dots and then looking back up at the bright red light on the gun.  The handlers said nothing to him, they only stared at him as if they expected him to know this threat.

Dean stood up and moved a little closer to get a better look at the gun.  It didn’t have a barrel, it had what he could only assume was a box on it.  He snorted in amusement, coming out in a gruff bark, which the handlers took as defiant.  The handler with the odd gun pulled the trigger, a quick spark caught Dean’s attention a millisecond before he felt two barbs dig into his chest, instantly followed by a rapid clicking noise.  His entire body went rigid and pitched to the side, dropping to the ground.  He struggled to move, to do anything, but could do nothing more than twitch spastically.  He worked his mouth in effort make a protesting or pleading bark, but no noise came out.

The handler never took his finger off the trigger, continuously tazing Dean for a solid minute and a half.  When he released the trigger, Dean’s vision blurred and darkened.  He could faintly hear someone yelling and struggled to lift his head.  He strained to focus on the person coming down and yelling, having no reservations about getting into the handlers’ faces and backing them up against the metal.  Dean could barely make out the features with his fading vision, tall and dark haired with a deep voice.  He relied more on scent to help identify them, once again picking up on an extremely familiar scent.

The metal gate rose up and let the person through as others came down in response to the commotion.  They moved swiftly over to Dean, kneeling beside him and cradling his head.  He made an effort to turn his head and focus more on their face.  As the darkness quickly swallowed his sight, he was able to focus long enough to identify him; Castiel.  Dean gave a soft whimper as he relaxed and let himself fall into unconsciousness as Castiel tried to talk to him. 

 

Dean regained consciousness sometime later, though he was hardly awake.  He could feel the soft bed and blankets around him and sighed contentedly.  For a minute, he considered getting up to find Castiel, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up.

“Feeling better now?”

Dean peaked his eyes open, grumbling at seeing doubles of everything.  Although, he wasn’t seeing doubles of Castiel at the edge of the bed.  He was seeing Michael and Castiel.  Dean tensed and huffed, blinking hard and bringing everything back together.  The doubles slid back together, Michael’s image faded away leaving only Castiel.  Dean rolled onto his stomach, sitting up slightly and wagging his tail.  Castiel grinned and reached forward, patting Dean on the head and rubbing between his ears.

“That’s my boy.  Take it easy for now, we’ve got a long day today.”

Castiel stood up and walked out of the room.  Dean stared after him, wondering why Castiel had been so…casual.  He would’ve thought Castiel would be more excited than that to see him again.  Dean was certainly excited to be with him again.  Dean got to his feet, shrugging the blanket off and looking around. 

This wasn’t Castiel’s house, it was far too nice.  Not that Castiel’s house wasn’t nice, but it wasn’t this lavish and decorated with modern furnishings.  He eyed everything in the room suspiciously, carefully scenting the room and thinking about it.  He hoped off the bed and started snooping through the room.  Everything was clean, empty and untouched; save for the bed he’d just been in.  He walked around the room once more, this time over to the window to see a vibrant blue pool below him, glowing lightly with the waning darkness of the morning.

He came to the conclusion that this was a hotel.  It was a reasonable assumption, Castiel probably wanted to let Dean rest.  Dean moved back from the window, shifting upright into a human.  He gathered up a blanket and wrapped it around himself before going to the door.  He opened it as quietly as possible and poked his head out.  The floor outside was polished, smooth wood floors and semi-glossy walls with recessed lights gently reflecting off the surfaces.  Dean had never been in a hotel, let alone one this fancy.  He’d only stayed in two or three cheap motels as a child when they’d gone on vacation.

He carefully stepped out up, quietly closing the door behind himself, and started down the hall.  He only passed two other rooms, spaced far apart, before he reached the end of the hall that opened up into a balcony.  He followed the railing over to a wide, curved staircase that brought him to stand in front of the surprisingly small front entrance.  He spun on his heels and faced a grand lobby, set two steps down into the floor.  Much like the room, it was decorated with modern furniture arranged around an ornate glass table with a large fireplace burning on the far side.  Dean couldn’t smell any wood smoke coming from it, but he could smell a faint trace of gasoline.  It was one of those electric fireplaces Sam had talked about a few times, one that effortlessly heated everything.

Dean raised his brow at the fireplace, deciding this place was quite fancy.  He hadn’t seen much of it, but he knew the rest would be equally nice.  He wandered through the hotel marveling at everything within it.  After a while, he began to wonder where everyone was.  He yet to see a single employee here.  He rounded the corner and came to the kitchen, finding Castiel making food.  Dean knitted his brows together.  Even at the cheap motels, they never had to make their own breakfast.

Castiel glanced over his shoulder, opening his mouth to speak, but stalling when he saw the human Dean standing across from him.

“Where…are we?” Dean asked.

“Home,” Castiel replied simply.

“Not home,” Dean said cautiously.

“I know it’ll take some getting used to, but it is much nicer.”

“Move?”

“What do you mean?”

“You…move?”

Castiel stared at him, processing what he meant.  Dean tilted his head; it had never taken Castiel much time at all to figure out what he meant.

“D-did you move…while go— while I w-was gone?” Dean clarified.

If anything, that confused Castiel even more.

“Cas?” Dean prompted.

Castiel shook his head and sighed, abandoning the food to face Dean.

“That wraith must’ve got you good…” Castiel mused, “I’m not ‘Cas’.”

“Not Cas, but e-easier to say than, um… Cah-stee-el.”

Castiel’s entire body tensed up as his eyes went wide.

“Castiel,” Castiel said quietly.

“Caws-tee-el,” Dean tried again.

Castiel’s mouth fell open with an expression Dean couldn’t quite read.  Castiel ran a hand through his hair and put the other on his hip.

“Unbelievable…” Castiel mumbled.

“Sorry, still have hard t-time,” Dean apologized.

He hadn’t said Castiel’s full name since their ‘formal’ introduction, so of course he would still have a hard time with it.  But he’d always been fine with just ‘Cas’, he couldn’t understand why he’d be upset now, months later.

“I’ll— I’ve got to, uh…  I’ll be right back,” Castiel excused himself, “Help yourself to— whatever you eat.”

Castiel left the room in hurry, leaving Dean feeling confused and hurt.

 

Castiel’s phone lit up with a call, once again reading Gabriel’s name.  He glanced over at Sam and John, both asleep.  John sat leaning against the window with his arms crossed and scowl on his face, while Sam sat with his head tipped back against the window and mouth open.  He didn’t want to wake them, but they looked sound asleep and as long as he was quite, it would be fine.

“Yes, Gabriel?”

“Are you almost here?”

“Almost,” Castiel answered.

“Christ Almighty, you drive so slow…” Gabriel whined, “How much longer?”

“I’m just a few miles outside of Las Vegas.  And I’ve, um…picked up some company.”

“Did you pick up hitch hikers?  Have you not seen any horror movie ever?”

“They’re not hitch hikers, I know them, they just needed a ride.”

“Uh-huh, well, how lucky for them you happened to be passing through and going where they needed to go when they needed to go.”

Castiel tapped his phone to his forehead.

“Lucy, you gots more ‘splaining to do,” Gabriel sang.

“I know,” Castiel groaned, “I just…”

“Hmm?”

“I will answer whatever you ask when I get there, so long as you promise me two things.”

“I dunno, you should never trust a guy with secrets…”

“Please, Gabriel.  Just trust me and help me.”

“Well, you are my little bro and second most behaved in the family… Alright, but you answer _everything_ and no fibbing.”

“I won’t.”

“Then ya got a deal.”

Castiel hit the end call button and sighed, quietly praying that Gabriel would believe him.  Castiel hummed, supposing that didn’t actually matter.  Castiel had all the proof he needed.  What he really hoped for was Gabriel to be understanding and accepting.  As he went to put his phone back in the cup holder, it buzzed with a text message from Gabriel.

_‘Slight edit to our deal.  Can you come here first?  I wanna know stuff before we go do whatever it is you gonna do.’_

Castiel searched the address attached.  The result came up with a bar on the Strip, nearly forty minutes away from Michael’s house.  He scrunched his face, but replied that he would.  But he would keep the conversation as short as possible.  Castiel tossed his phone in the cup holder and started thinking of what Gabriel would ask and how he’d answer him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [crawls out of the sewer to give you this]  
> i have at least 4 excuses for taking almost a month longer than i said i would, but i don't think you guys care that much. unless you are also part of the crowd waiting on an update for [Seven Days](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1443685/chapters/3037018) (y'all are gonna shit your pants at the size of the final update), in which case that is one of my excuses. two are art related and the last is bathroom rennovations.


	21. When In Rome

Castiel walked down the Strip, checking his phone every few seconds to see how close he was to the bar.  He’d made John and Sam wait in the truck, mostly due to them not having clothes.  Well, clothes that fit.  But there’d been several people Castiel had seen walking down the Strip that made him think that John and Sam wearing ill-fitting clothes really wouldn’t have attracted much attention.  Still, it was for the best they not come with him to see Gabriel.

The arrow on his phone took a sharp turn to the right, indicating he was right next to the bar now.  Castiel put his phone in his pocket as he walked into the bar and glanced around for his brother.  The bar wasn’t quite as glorious as he’d expected, both for being in Vegas and for his brother picking it.  It was only a few steps up from the Roadhouse, but it was much more packed and noisy.  Castiel grumbled to himself, standing up on his toes to find Gabriel.  Castiel wasn’t short, but Gabriel was and with the amount of people in here, finding him was a bit troublesome.  Castiel worked his way through the crowd, going up on his toes once in a while to try to spot Gabriel.

A movement at the far end of the bar caught his eye.  He watched the spot for a moment and saw an arm waving at him.  Castiel made his way over, working through the crowd faster when Gabriel popped up taller than he normally was; he was standing on a chair and Castiel feared him yelling out to him.  Castiel pushed past the last few people a little more roughly than he intended.

“Ya finally made it,” Gabriel grinned, sitting back down.

“I did,” Castiel replied.

“You want anything?”

Castiel thought for a second, he was hungry after the last stretch of his drive.  But he wanted to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.  On top of that, Gabriel had already ordered his own food and plenty of it.  Gabriel seemed to take the hint and pushed his plate a little closer to him.  Castiel picked up a few fries as Gabriel settled in his seat and looked at with an amused expectant expression.

“So…” Gabriel prompted.

Castiel swallowed thickly.

“You wanna start?” Gabriel offered.

“What do you want to know?” Castiel asked.

“Everything,” Gabriel shrugged.

Castiel made a noise of annoyance.  Gabriel sighed and leaned forward on the table.

“Alright, I’ll be a little more specific.  And you gotta tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, capiche?”

“Yeah, I capiche.”

“Okay,” Gabriel paused for a minute, “Why are you going to Michael’s?”

“…Because I believe Dean is there.”

“Why would Dean be there?”

“He… He was, um— kidnapped.”

“By Michael?”

“No, by these two men named Azazel and Alistair.”

“And they gave him to Michael?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure, honestly.”

“Alright, then…  Who are Azazel and Alistair?”

“They’re… hunters, I suppose.”

“People hunters?” Gabriel asked.

Castiel tipped his head side to side.  It wasn’t entirely untrue, but the look Gabriel was giving him reminded him he promised to tell the whole truth.

“No, they hunt o-other things,” Castiel started weakly.

“And Dean is other things?  What is he?”  Gabriel asked.

“He’s a skinwalker…”

“Huh…”

Gabriel leaned back, clicking his tongue and thinking.  Castiel chewed his lip, waiting for Gabriel to, well, react like any normal person.

“Haven’t heard too much of them,” Gabriel hummed.

“I’m sorry?”

“They aren’t too common anymore,” Gabriel shrugged, “I mean, I was kinda guessing werewolf first, with the whole naked thing.”

“You— what?”

“Cas, dearest brother, there are way more creatures that go bump in the night than you realize,” Gabriel said, “He’s not one of a kind.  Well, I mean he kinda is, skinwalkers are on the endangered list.”

“How do you know about this?” Castiel asked.

“You mean how I, Michael _and_ Lucifer know about this?”

“You all know?  I mean, Michael obviously, but…”

“Lemme drop a bomb on ya:  Kali is demigod,” Gabriel said, “She was my intro to all this stuff.  Michael and Lucifer had been into it before me.”

“Can you explain more?” Castiel asked.

Gabriel shifted in his seat, holding his hands up like he was about to explain something very complicated to him.  He started off with the story of how he’d met Kali, which Castiel had already heard.  They’d been at a family dinner at a buffet and Gabriel had seen in her line and started flirting with her.  Of course, she brushed him off at first, but he’d been persistent and charming enough, in his own way, that she humored him and gave him her number; her actual number.  Everything had been relatively normal from there; there’d been a few things she did that seemed odd, but nothing to make him suspicious of her not being human.

It wasn’t until Gabriel had gone to meet her family that things started to get weird.  He’d wanted to, but she didn’t.  They’d fought and argued about it, Kali saying that wasn’t something that he would want.  They went on something of a break and got back together, tentatively.  Gabriel went to meet her family and found them to be very traditional demigods.  Very traditional.  He had freaked out a little, though Castiel remembered Gabriel being more than ‘a little freaked out’ that night when he came home. 

Obviously, he’d calmed down and accepted that, much to Kali’s delight.  But it was still a lot to take in.  He couldn’t go to their parents about it, since it wasn’t a normal relationship and their parents would think he was crazy.  So naturally, he went to their eldest brother Michael.  Michael had been skeptical at first, but only because he was calling her a goddess and demigod.  He hadn’t believed in them.  When Gabriel asked how he was so calm, Michael told him about a camping trip that he had Lucifer had taken shortly after graduating highschool; when Gabriel was a sophomore and Castiel was in junior high.  They’d gone camping at Black Water Ridge in Colorado.  The park rangers had warned them, and everyone else, that camping was dangerous at the moment because of a wild animal on killing spree.  They signed waivers, promised to stay on the trails, keep their food packed away…  Everything not to lure it close.

The people camping not too far from them hadn’t kept to those agreements.  The soft noises close to their tent had pulled them from deep sleep.  The screams had them wide awake and frozen in sheer terror.  Lucifer had been the first one to move, as slow and shaky as an old man.  He unzipped the tent flap as quietly as human possible and just enough for the two of them to look outside.  What’d they’d seen, they would’ve thought was a nightmare if it weren’t for the fact both of them saw it.

Figuring out what it was afterwards took some effort.  When you’re trying to google search ‘giant pale monster’, you don’t get many results.  But they were relentless in finding out what it was.  Nearly two months later, they’d gotten their answer: wendigo.

Both of them were cautiously curious about what else might exist and for a short time, they spent time together researching and looking into things that sounded suspicious.  They’d found they weren’t the only ones to stumble upon something supernatural, or the only ones who actively sought them out.  Which turned out to be a big help.  After a while, Michael and Lucifer searched out the creatures together less often.  They both went more with small groups of other people.  Michael going with those who believed the creatures should no longer roam free; they should be pets or on display like zoo animals.  Lucifer went more with those who believed that if they weren’t causing harm, there was no reason to cage them; they were live and sentient creatures on the same level as a human.

This, of course, led to a number of arguments between the two of them.  But because of the subject matter, whenever someone asked what the fights were about, they was always make something up or draw on something minor from childhood.

“So really, Cas, you’re just part of the family business now,” Gabriel shrugged with a half grin, “Welcome to the fold.”

Castiel sat back in his seat, thinking about Michael and Lucifer’s past arguments and how he’d always thought they were silly things to fight over.  Gabriel drummed his fingers loudly on the table to get Castiel’s attention back.

“So, we gonna go get your boyfriend now or what?” Gabriel asked.

“Y-yes, please,” Castiel replied, shaking his head.

He stood up from his chair and started for the door.  He bumped into a few people on the way out, including Gabriel behind him.  His mind kept going back to his older brothers’ past vacations and fights.  They had been much more adventurous after high school, but Castiel had chalked that up to them then having more free time.  Castiel was pulled from his thoughts by Gabriel grabbing his arm and jerking him to the side.

“What was that for?”

“Did ya wanna walk into the light pole?” Gabriel snipped.

Castiel flicked his eyes to the side and saw the light pole only half a step from where he stood.

“Got a little bit of culture shock goin’ on?” Gabriel asked.

“Something like that,” Castiel admitted, “You can’t tell me you fared much better when you found out about Michael and Lucifer.”

“Nope, I didn’t.  Now, how far are we from where you parked?”

“It’s just around the corner.”

Castiel and Gabriel rounded the corner building and crossed the street to the parking lot Castiel had left his truck in.  As they got closer, Castiel could see both Sam and John looking simultaneously bored out of their minds and anxious.  Sam took notice of them first, sitting up more attentively and lightly hitting John’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Who are they?” Gabriel mumbled, leaning closer.

“The hitchhikers I picked up,” Castiel replied dryly, “Dean’s brother and father.”

“Already met the family, huh?  Things must be serious,” Gabriel teased.

Castiel rolled his eyes and ignored the comment.  He went around to the driver’s seat and got in, leaving Gabriel to work his way into the tiny back seat on his own.  John glanced over his shoulder with a perturbed face at the number of times his seat was knocked.  Sam only flashed him a sheepish greeting and looked at Castiel, silently asking if they could get back on finding Dean.  Once Gabriel settled with a sigh, Castiel started the truck and headed for Michael’s house.

A minute into the drive, Gabriel scrunched his face up in thought and leaned forward.  He peered over the bench seat in front of him, down at the ill-fitting clothes Sam and John were wearing.

“Nice outfits,” Gabriel commented.

“They’re _his_ ,” John grumbled.

Gabriel turned to Castiel with raised eyebrows and grin, which Castiel pointedly ignored.

 

Michael hit ‘end call’ irritatedly for the second time.  After Dean mistaking him for his brother, Michael had made two phone calls.  The first to Crowley, to demand to know how Dean knew Castiel.  Crowley hadn’t been particularly clear with answer, mostly due to not knowing himself.  Azazel and Alistair had mentioned a ‘Castiel’ once or twice to him as a suggestion for leverage if Dean refused to cooperate or caused chaos.  And for Castiel to be useful leverage against him, Castiel obviously meant a great deal to Dean.

Once that conversation had reached its quick end, Michael had called the arena’s infirmary.  Dean was very obviously hallucinating to mistake Michael for Castiel.  Over the phone, they couldn’t give a definitive diagnosis, but they had told it was most likely a chemical poisoning from the wraith.  The nurse had seen the fight and believed Dean might’ve ingested some of the wraith’s hallucinogenic toxins.  To be sure, and to flush the poisons from his system, the nurse advised Michael to bring Dean in as soon as possible and definitely before his next fight; which happened to be two of them later that day.  It just so happens when you actually kill another creature, a lot more slots are suddenly open.  And Michael was eager to make up for the money he lost during the time he was without a fighter and to recuperate what he’d paid for Dean.

Michael tapped his phone against his hand, thinking of how he was going to convince Dean to go back to arena.  If he thought he was Castiel, persuading him to go places shouldn’t be too much of a challenge.  The problem was not knowing the extent of Dean’s hallucinations.  So far, it seemed to only present a case of mistaken identity. 

Michael hummed to himself and walked back to the kitchen, only to stop abruptly in the doorway.  All the food he’d been in the middle of preparing had been eaten with all the pots and pans piled in the sink.  The pantry door sat slightly ajar, revealing two cleared shelves.  Dean was currently standing with his back to Michael, forgotten blanket pooled around his ankles on the floor, as he searched through the fridge for more food.

“What did you do?” Michael snapped.

Dean flinched at the tone and spun on his heels, immediately ducking his head upon seeing Michael’s angered expression.

“Sorry, very hungry.  Not eat— Um, h-have not eaten s-since taken,” Dean apologized.

“But this much food?” Michael asked, “And that quickly?”

“Very hungry,” Dean repeated with an innocent shrug, “Was, um… star-ving.”

Michael ran his hands through his hair, staring at the suddenly absent food.  If Dean had an appetite like this, he’d be very curious to know how Castiel kept him fed.  He scratched at his head and sighed, dropping his arms.  An idea sparked in his mind and slowly began to form then, but he didn’t give much time to thinking it through.

“Are you feeling alright?” Michael asked.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head.

“Yes?” Dean replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes…?  Why?”

“Y-you never eat this much,” Michael said.

If Dean still believed him to be Castiel, he was going to use that to his advantage.

“Not always star-ving,” Dean pointed out.

“Even when you were starving, you didn’t eat this much.  Maybe you should go see a doctor.”

“N-not been to a doctor since was little,” Dean said cautiously, “Not like.”

“No one likes going to the doctors,” Michael snorted.

“But cannot go to human doctor.”

“I know a doctor who works with…skinwalkers and other— _creatures_.”

That seemed to relax Dean a little bit.  Michael scrambled to come with an answer for what he was sure would be Dean’s next question, how he knew this doctor.  But that wasn’t what Dean asked.

“Should go?”

Michael squinted his eyes a bit.  Dean sounded…borderline embarrassed. 

“Yes, you should,” Michael answered quickly.

Dean fidgeted in place for a second before slinking off.  Michael watched him go curiously, wondering what he was doing.  He waited a few minutes and was just about to go look for him when Dean came back.  Wearing his clothes. 

Dean toyed with the fabric, scrunching up his face in confusion at how ‘Castiel’s’ clothes fit him much better than before.  Michael was closer to Dean’s size than Castiel was, but he was still just a bit smaller than Dean.  Michael gritted his teeth in irritation at Dean wearing his clothes, but bit his tongue.  If this is what his brother allowed and he wanted to keep up the illusion, he’d tolerate it.  Just this once.

“Are you ready to go right now?” Michael forced.

Dean nodded without looking at him.

Michael walked past him and towards the garage at the back of the house.  As Dean followed him through the door, he heard Dean stop and turned around to see why.  He had the same confused look on his face as he stared at the truck.

“New tr-uck too?”

Michael glanced back at his truck and back at Dean.

“Yes,” Michael replied simply.

Dean stared at the truck a minute longer, with a hint of caution.  Michael wondered if there was something nagging in the back of his mind about the familiarity of the truck, but Dean had only seen the bed and tailgate of it.  He hesitated another second before moving towards the passenger side of the truck and getting in.

Michael breathed a sigh of relief.  The only tricky part now was that the arena’s infirmary was _in_ the arena, just down the hall from where Magnus had done his own exam of Dean.  He was sure to recognize the same path as the exam room and going down to the holding cells.  But perhaps since Dean was currently human, they could use the less discrete entrance inside the casino building.  That would be hopefully be enough to throw Dean off until they were close enough that arena staff could help with handling him.

Everything would be fine.

Michael left the house and drove in tense silence.  Every now and then, Michael would look over at Dean.  Dean fidgeted beside him, but never looked at him.  He only stared at either his hands or out of the window.  As they came up to a red light, Michael glanced over at him again; he was still staring at his hands in his lap.  But something else caught his attention.

Just kitty-corner from them at the intersection, in the turn lane, was a very familiar truck.  Michael narrowed his eyes at it, trying to place it.  The recognition came slowly at first, but then it hit him.  It was their father’s old truck, the one that had been given to Castiel.  Michael felt the hairs on his neck raise as he tried to see who was in it.  It was a short distance away, but he was sure that was Castiel.  Along with three other people. 

Michael gripped the steering wheel tighter, knowing the cycle of this intersection would have Castiel passing right in front of them before Michael was allowed to proceed.  Castiel might recognize Dean, or vice versa if Dean decided to look out of the window again.

“Dean, can you, uh…  I think I dropped a CD underneath the seat earlier, can you see if you can find it?”

Dean tilted his head, wary of the request, but he complied.  He leaned forward, hiding himself just as Castiel’s light turned green.  As he passed in front of them, Michael was then more than a hundred percent sure it was his brother and he knew why he was here all of a sudden.  Michael growled to himself.  He’d have to keep Dean at the arena if Castiel was going to be snooping around.

“Can’t find,” Dean said, sitting up.

“That’s fine,” Michael replied tightly, “I’ll find it later.”

 

“That guy was giving you a really dirty look,” Sam commented.

“What guy?” Castiel asked.

“The guy in the black truck back there,” Sam answered, “He was glaring at you like he wanted to kill you.”

“Probably just a resting bitchface,” Gabriel sighed, “Or else he’s fed up with Cassie’s slow driving.”

Castiel set his jaw and scowled out the front window.  After about five minutes of driving, Gabriel had chosen to sit sideways and lean against one of the small back doors to stretch out and act like he was taking a nap.  He’d always poked fun at Castiel’s driving, though truthfully, Castiel wasn’t a slow driver.  He just wasn’t as aggressive as most people and didn’t speed as often.

“We’ll be there in just a minute,” Castiel pointed out.

“Y’know, you’d think with your boyfriend being kidnapped and all, you’d put a little more lead in your foot.”

“And, you know, driving recklessly would have me pulled over and losing more time.”

“Nah, only if you get arrested.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and sighed.  He checked his phone’s GPS to see how close he was to Michael’s house.  They were just two turns away now.  All the houses around here was massive and overly extravagant, clearly the neighborhood for Las Vegas’ high rollers.  As much as the life style appealed to him, and anyone, he couldn’t imagine actually living in one of these show houses— mansions.  They weren’t even houses at this point, they were all mansions.  He couldn’t even remember Michael ever expressing an interest in such elegant living, but then again, he’d hadn’t seen Michael in several years and clearly a lot had changed since then.

Castiel pulled up to the curb, frowning at the wrought iron gate blocking Michael’s driveway.  Of course, he would have one of those.  Every house they’d seen in this neighborhood had one.  As soon as John opened his door, Gabriel was quick to scramble out and stretch his legs while making idle complaints about the small seat in the back.  The three of them ignored him, all already thinking about how to get into the house without raising suspicion or setting off the alarms that were sure to be set.

The only way Castiel could think of, that wouldn’t waste any time, was to climb over the fence.  Evidently John and Sam had been thinking the same.  They went to the six foot brick pillars on either side of the gate and hoisted themselves up as if it was the easiest thing in the world.  John stumbled on the landing, nearly losing his balance, but managing to regain it.  Castiel and Gabriel stared at them on the other side, then glanced at each other.

“How ‘bout you help me up?” Gabriel asked, “I’m not that tall.”

Castiel scowled, but went over to the pillar and kneeled down a bit, netting his fingers together to provide Gabriel a lift.  To say that Gabriel was ungraceful would be an understatement.  He stepped on Castiel’s hands, his knee, his shoulder, hit him in the face with his own knee; all the while trying scraping one foot or the other against the brick.  When Gabriel finally managed to get his stomach up on the top of the pillar, Castiel immediately left him to fend for himself.  Castiel went to the other pillar while his brother continued scrambling, thinking of how not to fall on his face.  Castiel’s climb wasn’t as simple or swift as John and Sam’s, but it was remarkably better than Gabriel’s.

John and Sam hadn’t waited on them, they’d gone up the driveway to the house.  Neither of them bothered trying the front door, no one in their right mind would leave the front door to such a house unlocked.  The creeped up to different windows on ground level, peaking inside and looking for signs of anyone inside.  Gabriel and Castiel caught up, going around to the back of the house first.

 

Michael had been partially right.  Dean was completely unaware where they were going until they’d reached the door that opened into the arena’s network of hallways.  The second he’d caught the scent of it, he reeled back with a howl and defensively turning back into a wolf.  The guards on either side of the door immediately called handlers to come restrain him.  Dean knocked one of them out and dazed another before their cattle prods left him shaking and twitching on the floor.

Thankfully, the architect and construction team responsible for the arena had thought of an incident like this.  The hallway they’d been in was an intermediary hall; soundproofed, reinforced and accessible only to those who knew what combination of buttons to press in the casino’s elevators.

Currently, Dean was laying half-conscious on the metal exam table of the infirmary.  The nurse had drawn a few vials of blood and swabbed his mouth.  She had taken the samples out of the room to test them in the infirmary’s lab and came back while the tests were incubating.  For her last test, picked up a little flashlight and walked back over to the table.  She righted Dean’s head and used one hand to hold his eye opened while she shined the flashlight in it with the other.  She turned his head a bit, pulling more on skin to show more of his eye. 

At her contemplative hum, Michael perked up.  But the nurse offered no explanation.  She only excused herself to go check on the sample tests.  Due to the number of fighters who came into the infirmary, and the need to get them back in the ring as soon as possible, no expense had been spared on the infirmary’s lab equipment.  Test results were produced in less than two hours; unless growing a culture was required.

When she came back again, Michael looked up at her expectantly.

“His dopamine levels are still elevated from the wraith.  Ingesting the wraith’s toxins are what’s keeping the levels up, it’s going to take a few weeks, possibly months, and some antipsychotic medications to bring them back down to normal,” the nurse explained.

“Months?  Will he still be able to participate in fights?” Michael asked.

“Physically, yes,” the nurse replied hesitantly, “But mentally, I would not advise it.  Coupled with the medications, it could worsen his mental health.”

Michael pursed his lips and ground his teeth together.

“On top of that, there is something else that concerns me,” the nurse continued, “There’s an accumulation of black in the sclera of both eyes and it looks to be progressing into the iris.”

“Don’t tell me a single fight has started him on hysteria,” Michael growled.

“Personally, I don’t believe in Magnus’ paper on the matter.  There’s been no officially documented cases of it, it’s all stories from native packs of skinwalkers.  And much like the Native Americans they spend so much time with, all their stories and legends are completely outlandish,” the nurse replied, “I believe it’s just an infection, antibiotics should take care of it.”

The nurse turned away, excusing herself to the back to retrieve the medications for Dean.  She came back with two orange bottles, one of penicillin and the other of clozapine.  She explained the direction of dosages to Michael and told him to bring Dean back in two weeks for tests to see how well the medications were working. 

Casually, she asked how many fights Dean was presently scheduled for.  He told her in addition to the number of fights scheduled for an introductory fighter, Dean had been given all the wraith’s fights.  He had more than fifteen fights within the coming week.  Again, the nurse cautioned against it.  At the very least, Dean should only participate in his originally scheduled fights.  Only three within the week.  Michael tightly replied he would give up several fights for Dean’s health, though he was lying.  The nurse could tell, but she said nothing about it.  He wasn’t the first to abuse his fighter like this.  He’d actually done it with his last fighter.

Before she left, the nurse gave Dean an injection to help wake him up all the way.  As she left, two handlers came in to escort Dean.  After a questioning look to Michael, they knew Dean would still be participating and that they were to bring him down to the holding cells.  Michael gave them a dose of Dean’s medication to give him before the fight.  He knew Dean wouldn’t be too keen on cooperating with taking them and that was something he didn’t want to deal with himself.

He watched them take Dean out, with him quickly sobering up and beginning to fight back.  Michael’s phone chirped with an alert, tearing his attention from the struggle.  He unlocked his phone and found his security alarm had been tripped.  He tapped on the notification, bringing up the in-home video security feed.  He flipped through the feeds, looking for the intruders, and found Castiel, Sam, John and Gabriel cautiously walking through the garage.  Without hesitation, Michael activated the alarm to alert police to the break in.

 

“This is kinda suspicious, isn’t it?” Sam asked.

“What is?” Castiel asked.

“That no alarm has gone off.  I mean, every other alarm would be shrieking by now and telling the whole neighborhood we’re here.”

“If you’re in the business of trafficking things that ‘don’t exist’, do you wanna have something that’s gonna bring law enforcement to your doorstep?” Gabriel countered.

“Fair point, but still…” Sam sighed.

They’d searched most of the downstairs and found nothing to hint at what Michael was doing.  All they found was a couple other locked doors, most likely that led either outside or were simply storage, and an empty kitchen.  The latter was the only possible hint Dean was there.  They went upstairs and fanned out in search of any other sign of Dean.  They searched in silence from there, the only sound in the house was of them opening doors or moving light weight furnishings.

Castiel sighed, closing another bedroom door behind himself and turned to go back downstairs.  He trotted down the wide, smooth stairs and into the living room where a blue flash in the corner of his eye caught his attention.  Immediately, a red flash followed.  Castiel didn’t need to look out the window to know what it was.

“Shit…” Castiel breathed, “Shit, _shit!”_

“What?!” Gabriel hollered.

“We need to go, there was an alarm!” Castiel shouted.

He heard all three of them swearing, followed by the deep thumps of frantic, heavy footsteps.  Castiel spun on his heels and made a run for the back door, where they’d come in.  Two wolves were quick to dart past him, barreling through the door and running straight towards the back of the property.  Castiel rounded the corner, running straight into the officer.  He heard Gabriel curse not far behind him.

“Do you boys live here?” the officer asked lowly.

Castiel shook his head.

“Do you have permission to be here?”

He shook his head again.

“What were you doing here then?”

Castiel swallowed thickly.  He wouldn’t lie, he was always taught to never lie to police.  It always worsened things for you.  But, he couldn’t tell the truth either.  That could be just as damning as lying.

“If you could just read me my rights…” Castiel spoke.

The officer quirked an eyebrow at him and glanced at Gabriel.

“Same,” Gabriel said.

The officer narrowed his eyes at the two of them, but recited their rights as he turned Castiel around to handcuff him.  He waited with his head ducked as Gabriel was likewise handcuffed and both of them were led around to the front of the house.  The officer’s patrol car was still flashing its lights quietly in the driveway.  A glance down the driveway showed the gate to be open now.

“Of course, _now_ it’s open…” Gabriel mumbled.

Castiel shot him a sideways look.

The officer radioed for his partner that he had two suspects in cuffs and received a muffled response neither of them could understand.  The officer sat both of them back in the back seat and shut the door, going back to the house to help his partner look around.  Several minutes later, they both returned empty handed.

Gabriel and Castiel didn’t say a word as they were driven down to the local jail.  Castiel kept his eyes on the floor the whole time, both in shame and fear.  Gabriel, on the other hand, looked like he couldn’t be any less inconvenienced. 

They were brought into booking and spoke only when spoken to.  If the question involved what they were doing at the house or where the other two reported suspects were, they said nothing. 

A short while later, they were both sent to holding with a bail too high for Castiel to pay.  Castiel paced around the small cell, anxiously biting his lip and desperately trying to think of what to do.  He didn’t even know where to start thinking.  He dropped down on the bench, running his hands through his hair and taking a deep breath. 

Michael now knew they were there looking for Dean, so wherever Dean had been, he’d surely have been moved.  He couldn’t afford to lose another night.  Ellen had given him four days off; today was day two. 

Castiel held his face in his hands, trying to think of how to make bail.  Jessica was still in the hospital, not that he could ever ask her for so much money.  Ellen was out of the question, he wasn’t going to tell his boss he’d been arrested.  The same went for his parents.  Castiel took another deep breath and stared at the wall, wondering if he could somehow sell his truck from jail or if it would even fetch enough to make bail.  He could rent a car afterwards or something.

Hours later, a sound at the cell door pulled him from his thoughts.  A guard was standing to the side of the open door, gesturing for him to get up and come out.  Castiel did so tentatively, eyeing the guard suspiciously as he came closer.

“You made bail,” the guard stated, “You’re court date is in two weeks.  March eighth, eleven a.m. at the county courthouse.”

Castiel opened his mouth to ask how he made bail, but then saw Gabriel standing behind the guard with a grin that told him not to ask just yet.

“Y-yes, sir,” Castiel said obediently.

The guard turned and led the both of them out of the jail and reminded them once more of their court date.  As soon as the doors closed, Castiel turned to face Gabriel.

“How?” Castiel blurted.

“Kail’s family is pretty rich,” Gabriel shrugged, “By the way, she’s kinda involved now.”

“Oh my god, Gabriel—“ Castiel started to protest.

“In a good way,” Gabriel defended, “I just gotta call her back now that we’re out.  She said she can find Dean real quick.”

“How can she do that?”

“We’re in Vegas, where money gives you answers,” Gabriel grinned.

Castiel watched him as he dialed Kali’s number and waited for a response.  A second later, she answered and Gabriel was explaining everything to her.  He waved to Castiel to signal they should start walking; less suspicion from the police just inside and no one catching any significant amount of what Gabriel was saying.  Castiel followed Gabriel, trusting that he knew where they were wondering to.  Several minutes later, when Gabriel hung up the phone, Castiel decided to ask where they were going.

“To the impound lot.  They took your truck and we kinda need a ride,” Gabriel answered, “By the way, Kail is gonna call me back in a bit with where Dean is.”

“Even despite money being what talks in Vegas, I can’t imagine Kali has that kind of money or who she would even talk to.”

“The fewer questions you ask, the easier everything is,” Gabriel hummed.

Thankfully, the walk to the impound lot wasn’t too far.  It took them only forty five minutes to get there.  While Castiel talked to the lot manager, Gabriel stepped out to answer his phone.  Getting his truck out cost Castiel the last of his savings money, which had been draining from all the time off he’d taken and paying off the Impala.

Castiel filled out the paperwork and went through the lot to his truck.  The manager removed the wheel lock and let Castiel get in.  He drove back through the lot and pulled up in front of the office, waiting for Gabriel to get in.  Gabriel walked around in circles idly, listening to whatever Kali was telling him.  Finally, he stuffed his phone in his pocket and hopped in the truck.

“Well?” Castiel prompted.

“He’s in the underground, place called ‘Purgatory’.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a, uh… fighting arena?”

“What?!”

“And, because I know you wanna know this gets worse, he’s already been through three fights,” Gabriel said, “And has more tomorrow.”

“Where is he?  Don’t say Purgatory, I mean where exactly?”

“From the sounds of it, that’s up in limbo.  Michael’s trying to have him moved, but there’s some roadblock.”

Castiel sat back in his seat, gritting his teeth and tightening his hold on the steering wheel.

“I suppose we’re going to Purgatory then,” Castiel grumbled.

 

“Michael, as I have said several time, this is not a boarding house,” Magnus sighed, “It wouldn’t matter if he was the champion of the arena, fighters are not allowed to remain here post fight unless they are in the infirmary or have another fight within eight hours.  There are too many contestants and fights for that.”

Michael threw his hands up.  He’d been arguing with Magnus for the better part of an hour and had missed Dean’s last fight, though he knew he’d won.  Magnus didn’t care that anyone was coming for Dean; as a matter of fact, it sounded as if he’d prefer that someone take Dean from the arena.  But then Michael had an idea.

“What happened to Dean’s last rival?” Michael asked.

“The changling is in critical in infirmary.”

“And what of the changling’s fights?”

“Michael, you cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

Magnus sighed and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“The fights are open…  But I know you had Dean in the infirmary earlier today.  What for and what were the results?”

“He still had mild hallucinations, they just gave him a round of drugs to fix it,” Michael answered.             

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing.”

“You know I can always ask for the full report,” Magnus pressed.

Michael wasn’t worried, the nurse didn’t believe in ‘hysteria’.  If there was any mention of it in the report, it would be that Dean didn’t have it.

“I know.  Dean is fine.”

Magnus pursed his lips and walked over to the window overlooking the arena.  Michael remained in his spot, waiting for Magnus to say something.

“I’ll put him in for half of the changling’s fights,” Magnus decided, “He seems to be sparking quite a bit of interest among the audience.”

That would add another six fights, just enough to push Dean into less than eight hours between fights.  Michael smiled to himself at that.

“Thank you,” Michael said.

Magnus only hummed thoughtfully in response as Michael left.  He made his way down to another officer, the center that handlers reported to and were dispatched from.  He spoke with the lady at the front desk, explaining that the increase in Dean’s fights wouldn’t give Michael access to give him the medications.  Not that he planned to anyway.  He gave her the medications and repeated the nurse’s instructions.  The front desk girl called for another handler to come retrieve the medications and administer them.

Michael didn’t wait for the handler to arrive.  He left and made his way up to the viewing area with the other owners.  He decided to make a few ‘light’ bets of only a couple thousand dollars.  Some of the people he bet with or against made some small talk with, a few offhanded comments about Dean’s tactless performances so far.  Michael defended each comment, explaining that Dean had been poisoned and he would be winning flawlessly as soon as he was cured.  After all, Michael only picked the best to fight for him. 

One other owner jabbed that he had never held the champion title, even for a single fight, and that his last fighter had been killed.  Michael bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything stupid or regretful.  He had faith that Dean would last much longer than his previous, perhaps even earn a match against the champion.

 

“You done getting dressed yet?  Jeez….”

“I don’t understand why we need to change clothes to go to an underground fighting arena.”

“Well, for one, we have to go through the Venetian Resort Casino.  You can’t just show up in your— normal clothes.”

“I appreciate you avoiding insult.”

“No prob.  Second, if we wanna convince anyone in Purgatory that we have any amount of power or influence, or that we are who we say we are, we need to look it.”

“That’s basically the same as your first reason.”

“Eh, it’s a good reason.  Plus, how often do you get to dress up?”

The answer was never.  Well, almost never.  The last time Castiel had worn a suit was for his grandmother’s funeral six years ago.  Before that, a cousin’s wedding.  Other than that, Castiel never dressed up much.  Even holiday dinners at a restaurant was just a nice button up shirt and nice jeans.

Now, he was wearing a smooth, dark blue-gray Armani suit and matching tie.  Kali had been generous enough to wire them both money to afford the nice clothes.  Castiel couldn’t accept it wholly, so he’d chosen to only rent the suit; it was just about half the cost of buying it.  Gabriel had purchased his on the excuse of going to several _very_ nice restaurants every year with Kali and her family.

Castiel straightened his jacket once more and loosened his tie a little before deciding that was good enough.  He picked up his clothes and stepped out of the changing room to meet Gabriel.

“Hey, lookin’ sharp,” Gabriel complimented, “Maybe wanna fix your hair though?"

“Not particularly, I’d rather get on with finding Dean.”

“Alright, fair enough,” Gabriel shrugged.

Castiel thanked the clerk on their way out.  They went to the truck only for a minute to drop their clothes inside.  Gabriel had said there was no way they could take the old pick-up truck and go to the Venetian wearing Armani suits.  It wouldn’t look right.  But, once again, luck was on their side.  They could see the Venetian down the street from the suit and tux shop. 

Most of the entire day had been wasted and it was now well after midnight.  But that had no effect on Castiel, he took long, brisk strides that Gabriel had to trot to keep up with.  Castiel sidestepped and pushed past dozens of people.  Even being this late, the streets were still full of people walking from casino to casino, bar to bar, club to club…  It was a party that didn’t know how to sleep.  And why would it?  Vegas was probably more alive at night than during the day anyway.

Coming close to the Venetian now, Castiel fixed his suit once more with a shaky breath.  At this point, he really didn’t know what to expect anymore.

“Hey, I got a quick question for ya,” Gabriel said.

“What?”

“Do you know where, uh... Sam and John?  Where they went?”

“I have no idea,” Castiel answered, “But hopefully keeping out of trouble.”

“Because if this doesn’t work, whatever we’re about to wing, Kali’s got a back-up plan and we need them for it.”

Castiel eyed Gabriel.

“It’s probably exactly what you’re thinking, just saying.”

Castiel closed his eyes for a minute, taking a breath and continuing forward.  They walked through the ornate Italian styled lobby and went for the specific elevator Kali had told Gabriel.  They politely declined getting on with anyone else and took a few minutes to wait for an empty lift.  Once they finally got one to themselves, Gabriel pressed several buttons on the wall of the elevator.  The doors shut and the elevator began dropping below the lobby.

“If you wanna know, these guys aren’t super creative.”

“What do you mean?”

“The button code there?  You just spell out ‘Purgatory’ with the corresponding numbers.  Y’know, sixteen for P, twenty-one for U…”

“That…that really is uncreative,” Castiel agreed.

Gabriel nodded.              

The doors pinged open and let them off into the intermediary hallway.  Gabriel took the lead, knowing which way to go to get to wherever they should be.  They went around a few corners and walked through a heavy door into another hallway; this one more slightly more decorative from the bland intermediary.  They walked by several people who had been dressed in regular clothing, of which Castiel was a bit jealous, but those people would be the ones in the general audience.  Castiel quickly realized they were going to be in one of the higher up VIP booths.

He felt the hairs on his neck stand up.  They wouldn’t have a crowd to hide in.  Castiel would be able to count the number of people in the room.  And from what he knew, people in the VIP booths tended to do more socializing with each than watching the spectacle.  This all began to sound like a very bad idea to Castiel, but he didn’t voice his concerns.  So long as they acted like they were supposed to be there, and they didn’t run into Michael, everything would be fine.

He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha i wrote this in pretty much one sitting because i'm a procrastinating piece of shit who just realized how long it's been since the last update. to be fair, i was working on another fic that hasn't been updated in a year ;_;


	22. Over-Dosage

“What is Kali’s back-up plan?” Castiel asked.

“Hm?”

“Kali’s back-up plan, you said she had one.  What is it?”

“Oh, right.  Got a little distracted by the fight,” Gabriel smiled, “Way better than UFC.  Anyway, in a nutshell, her plan was to enter Sam or John as her own fighter so they could get done to where they keep the fighters.”

“’Was’?”

“Well, Pops and Beanpole are MIA.  So, that plan’s kinda shot in the foot,” Gabriel shrugged.

“Then we need to come up with a more solid plan than— whatever it is we’re doing.  What are we doing, exactly?”

“I was leavin’ that up to you, baby bro.”

“Gabriel, for the love of— Jesus, you couldn’t maybe, I don’t know, tell me you didn’t have a plan?”

“Shh, shh, shh.  Keep your voice down,” Gabriel scolded, “And I thought you had one.  You were actin’ like it.”

“I don’t, Gabriel.  I don’t have a plan,” Castiel seethed.

Castiel crossed his arms and turned to glare out of the window, down at the arena.  Below, there was currently a fight going on between a rawhead and two kitsunes.  As quick as the kitsunes were, the rawhead still had more power and was knocking every attack aside.  Watching the smaller creatures being thrown across the arena and into various obstacles, Castiel’s anger ebbed into fear. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Gabriel asked.

“What?” Castiel snipped.

“Why you doing this?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“I mean, I get the obvious.  Like someone’s in trouble and you gotta help,” Gabriel said, “But… You haven’t even known him for a year, dated or whatever way less.  This is pretty extreme lengths to go to.  Why you doing this?”

Castiel opened his mouth, but his response died on his tongue.  Gabriel had a point.  If this were anyone else, he’d be leaving it to police and just constantly waiting on a phone call from them.  This wasn’t a police matter though.  It could be, Castiel supposed.  They would either laugh at him, lock him up, or be violently introduced to a world that most people didn’t believe in.  Castiel hummed quietly, deciding that no, actually this couldn’t be.  He could’ve left it to Sam and John.  This was their world.  They had a plan, they were the ones getting answers and actually making progress.  They had nothing to lose by running off like this, Castiel had everything.  So why couldn’t he just let them handle it?

“Did I lose you?” Gabriel asked.

“…Huh?”

“Yep.  I did,” Gabriel sighed, “I’m gonna go mingle a little and see if I can’t find something.  You do you.”

Castiel barely hummed in acknowledgement as Gabriel walked away.  Castiel continued thinking about his question.  He couldn’t come up with a reason for going this far and started to wonder if he would’ve done the same for his past relationships at this point.  Castiel wrinkled his nose, knowing the answer to that was a resounding ‘no’.  He would never take off across several states, he wouldn’t risk his job or possibly, with what he was getting into, his life.  But, then again, they were all human and they weren’t hunting or being hunted.  .  As far as he knew. 

“Quite the look you’ve got there.  Not the outcome you were hoping for, I take it?”

“S-sorry, what?”

“You have the look of someone who lost a wager.”

“Oh, no.  I’m not much a betting man.”

“Shame.  It’s a good way to make money.  Of course, also a good way to lose money,” the man admitted, “Magnus Sinclair, owner.”

Magnus offered out his hand to Castiel.

“James,” Castiel replied, shaking his hand.

“You’re not a betting man, so you must be here just for the sport,” Magnus observed, “Like all those people down there… But with a bit more refinement.”

Castiel pursed his lips and nodded curtly.

“Truthfully, I came to talk to you because I mistook you for someone else from behind,” Magnus admitted.

He wasn’t excusing himself to leave. 

“Even seeing your face now, you do look a bit like him.”

Castiel resisted the urge to sigh and drop his head.

“Who were you looking for?” Castiel played.

“Michael Novak.”

Castiel immediately perked up.

“I needed to discuss a few things about his fighter.”

“Which one is his?”

“The skinwalker.  He’s participating in two fights from now.”

“He has a skinwalker?” Castiel asked dumbly.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Magnus sneered.

“Could… Could I see him— it?” Castiel asked, “Outside of the fight.  I’ve, uh, never seen one.”

“As much as I would love to show you, I’m afraid I can’t,” Magnus apologized, “For a couple reasons.  Only handlers and owners are permitting in the staging area, liability reasons.  The other reason being the skinwalker’s been acting up.”

Castiel ground his teeth to stop himself from saying anything stupid.

“But do watch the fight closely, they’re over very quickly when he’s involved,” Magnus said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go find Michael.”

“Of course.”

Castiel watched him as he left.  The moment the door closed behind Magnus, Castiel walked swiftly out of the room.  He casually glanced up and down the hall, looking for which way Magnus had gone.  Castiel still didn’t have a plan, but he could feel one forming.

He did his best to keep his distance without losing him.  After one or two odd looks, he made more of an effort to trail him less suspiciously.  He kept up with Magnus for a few minutes until he into another VIP room.  Castiel didn’t follow him inside, if he was looking for Michael, then Michael may be in there.  Castiel curled his lip and swore under his breath.  He turned on his heels and walked straight into a solid object and stumbled backwards against the door of the VIP room.  He shook his head and looked up to see what he’d run into; someone who looked prepared to go into a bear exhibit at the zoo.  Castiel immediately realized this must be one of the handlers Magnus had mentioned.

“You lost?” the handler asked.

“Um, yes, actually,” Castiel replied.        

The handler stared down at Castiel as he stood upright and brushed himself off.

“I was looking for the, uh… Staging area.”

“That’s for owners and handlers only,” the handler growled.

“And I happen to be an owner,” Castiel replied, “A new one, which is why I can’t find the staging area.  I just wanted to check on my fighter before the fight.”

The handler narrowed his eyes.

“What d’ya got?”

“Harpie,” Castiel blurted.

There was a litany of curses running through Castiel’s mind at the moment.  He should’ve checked the roster of fights.  They might not even have a harpie.  Harpies might not actually exist.

“Then do I feel sorry for you,” the handler grumbled.

“Why’s that?”

“Because that skinwalker’s gonna tear her apart,” the handler laughed, “I’ll take ya to say your last goodbyes then.”

The handler waved his arm for Castiel to follow.  Castiel stared slack-jawed after the handler, disbelieving how lucky and coincidental that was.

“You comin’?”

Castiel jogged to catch up to him.  The handler continued on his way once Castiel was beside him.  The handler didn’t say a word to Castiel, he only spoke lowly into his receiver.  The volume was low and staticy, but the few things Castiel could understand didn’t seem to be important.  To him, at least.  A few things about moving some of the ‘monsters’ to different cells, some needing to be fed, others needing medications.  Nothing about Dean.

They rounded a corner and came to a stairwell with a Roman numeral two above it and an armed guard standing to the side of it.  Castiel hesitated as the handler walked past the guard and went down the stairs.  There was more than one staging area.  He swallowed and trotted down the stairs as the guard eyed him suspiciously.

“How many staging areas are there?” Castiel asked.

“Four,” the handler replied simply.

He had a one in four chance of Dean being in this area.  If not, then at least the arena was circular and the staging areas were most likely spaced out evenly around it.  The discordant sound of monsters wailing and howling in protest brought Castiel out of his thoughts.  The iron bars and brick columns caging the monsters reminded Castiel vaguely of the Colosseum’s staging area.

He heard a growl to his right and turned to look just as beast threw itself against the bars at him.  Castiel jumped and instinctively grabbed the handler.  The man shook him off with a gruff laugh.

“You must be real new,” the handler chuckled.

“Very,” Castiel breathed.

“Alright, here she is,” the handler said.

Castiel looked in the cell nearest to them to see a hideous, leather skinned _thing_ with tattered wings and long, spindly clawed fingers and toes.  The harpie lifted her head and blinked at them with a curious coo.  She cocked her head back and forth, staring at them with glimmering eyes.

“Do you two need a moment?” the handler teased.

“That would be, uh, appreciated,” Castiel stammered.

The handler rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“Y’got about forty minutes before it’s her turn.”

“Isn’t there two fights before hers?” Castiel asked.

“You must’ve been wandering around a while, there’s only one fight before her now and it’s about to start.”

Castiel mouthed ‘ _oh’_ and nodded as the handler turned and walked out.  The harpie squawked and hopped down from her perch, shuffling over to Castiel.  He paid her no mind, he watched the handler from the corner of his eye and waited for him to disappear from sight.  The harpie squawked a few more times, more alarmed sounding.  Castiel shushed the creature and waved his hand at her.  He leaned back to make sure the handler was gone before he turned and hurried down the dim hall.  He glanced briefly in each cell as he went by, only long enough to establish the creature was not a direwolf or a man.  There were a few human-esque monsters that made him double check, but not any more closely than the first glance.

He broke into a run down the halls, jumping and falling into a wall when monsters screeched at him or rammed their bars.  He heard a muffled voice over the loudspeaker, he must’ve gotten closer to the arena wall than he realized.  Whatever was said, there was a roar of cheering and heckling.  The next fight was starting.  The one after this, Dean would be in.

Castiel came to the end of the staging area.  Dean wasn’t in this one.  Castiel doubled back and ran.  Once he reached the stairs, he slowed to a brisk walk.  He nodded at the armed guard as he left the area and turned down the hall.  He pulled out his cellphone and typed a quick text to Gabriel, then sent it.  Just as he went to put his phone in his pocket, it buzzed with a message.  He checked the screen and found a red triangle with an exclamation mark, gray letters beside it reading ‘ _message not sent’_.  Castiel hit send again and received the same notification.  Up at the top corner of the screen, he saw his reception bars all dark with an X; he had no reception down here.

He could either try to find Gabriel or he could keep searching himself.  The only hang up with the latter would be getting past the guard outside each staging area.  He glanced around the dim hallways as he walked, looking for anything he could for a distraction.  As weak of an idea as it may be, throwing something to draw a guard’s attention always worked in media and it was all he had right now.

 

In the opposite direction Castiel was headed, Dean was down in staging area three, backed into the corner of his cell and snarling at the handlers encroaching on him.  They weren’t trying to draw him out the cell, not yet.  They were trying once more to give him the medications prescribed to him.  They’d done so twice since they’d been ordered and each time thus far had become harder.  The initial dose was easy, Dean had still been a little out of it.  A few things had been lost in translation and coupled with the bottles missing their proper labels, he’d inadvertently been given an overdose.  The second time, Dean was more alert and knew what was coming.  In that struggle, the bottles had been knocked from their hands and the pills spilled.  They were hastily scooped back in their containers and a handful of unknown ratio crammed down Dean’s throat and his mouth clamped shut until he was forced to swallow.  That had been another unwitting overdose.

The first handler tightened his grip on the cattle-prod, waiting for the signal from the one who’d come up with this bright idea.  The ‘mastermind’ shook the pill bottle twice, momentarily drawing Dean’s attention on himself and signaling the other to go.  The prod-wielder lunged forward and jammed the forked prong into Dean’s chest.  He yelped and howled; the voltage had been increased from last time.  The prod-wielder kept the weapon pressed into him, even as Dean struggled to turn his head and open his mouth to wretch the weapon away.  This had been anticipated and was why there was a third handler with them, now rushing forward and throwing his armored arm into Dean’s open mouth.  The prod-wielder dropped the weapon, they couldn’t taze him into unconsciousness with his fight so close, and wrapped his arms tightly around Dean to reduce his struggling. 

The one with his arm in Dean’s mouth moved his free hand up to Dean’s jaw and pried as the handler with the medications came forward.  Dean thrashed and snarled, overpowering the one trying to open his mouth and managing to sink a sharp tooth through the gloved hand.  The injured handler cried out, but made no effort to retreat.  Dean thrashed his entire body as best he could, but being backed into a corner with little room to move and a handler now on him, not to mention the lack of food he’d had, he had no more strength than a large house dog. 

The handler at his mouth tried prying his jaw open once more, with trembling arms and a bleeding hand.  The one restraining his body redoubled his hold, using every muscle to keep Dean in the corner.  The third, wanting to be quick and not giving much of a flying fuck about Dean’s well-being, dumped the contents of the bottle down his throat, though several of them fell to the floor.

Dean gagged and choked, now trying to wrestle himself free so he could hack the pills back up and breathe again.  The handler at his mouth withdrew his arm and used both hands to shut Dean’s mouth.  Dean’s eyes widened in alarm as the pills continued to gag and choke him, too dry to swallow and stuck in his throat.  The third handler believed Dean was simply being stubborn and refusing to swallow them.  He then covered Dean’s nose in an effort to make him do so.  Dean coughed and sputtered, trying to do anything to relieve the gagging and choking; and now suffocation.  In an automatic defense, his mouth watered in warning of throwing up.  It was enough to finally swallow the pills, but the handlers were unsure.  He’d been making the same motion with no ‘compliance’.

To ensure it, they’d kept him restrained until he coughed and rising bile sputtered out.  The one who’d given him the piles and the one holding his mouth shut both stumbled back in disgust, wiping their hands off on their uniforms.  The last withdrew for his own safety.  Dean fell down onto all four legs and trembled before collapsed to the ground and breathing deep.

“D’ya think he threw them up?”

“Probably.  Damn bitch.  We’ll come back after his fight, we don’t have time for this again right now.”

One of them, Dean wasn’t sure which one, grumbled in a mix of annoyance and dread.  As they turned to leave, Dean dragged his head along the floor to glare up at them with eyes now visibly more black.  He curled his lips and growled weakly, still shaking.  He pushed himself up as the door locked shut and staggered up to the bars.  Dean rested his head against the bars, taking calming breath that did nothing to ease the trembling.

A short while later, the door automatically opened, pulling Dean out of his stupor as the bars pushed his head aside.  He stood there, staring almost dumbfounded at the space the door had been occupying.  There was a nagging in the back of his mind urging him to move forward and, without any thought, he listened.  His legs carried him forward of their own will, even as he kept his head down and eyes locked on the ground.  The monotony of the dirtied stone floor was interrupted only by the thick metal lines of the threshold of the door to the arena.  Dean cocked his head at them, but stepped over none the less.

He lifted his head and immediately regretted it as the bright lights of the arena stung his eyes and sent everything into a tilting blur.  Dean staggered and faltered, tripping over a rock jutting out of the ground.  He recovered quickly, though gracelessly, and belatedly began to realize something was off about the arena.  He blinked in the bright light as he looked around; a few obstacles had been moved around, the ground had been cleaned up and leveled in some places, as well as a few other superficial things.  But those weren’t it.  He looked up to the stands, filled with thousands of people.  He could seeing them moving, jumping and swinging their arms.  But there was no deafening roar.

He squinted and focused, but the best he could hear was dull, distant rumble accompanied by ringing in his ears as if he was coming back from being shell-shocked.  With his hearing impaired, he didn’t hear the announcer or the beast he was against.

The arena was thrown violently to the side and became blindingly bright as Dean tumbled from the impact.  He scrambled to his feet, searching frantically for the other monster and straining his hearing.  A shadow on the ground caught his sight, but there was no figure to accompany it.  Then suddenly Dean felt daggers ripping through his back, tearing through his flesh and scratching his bones.  Dean yowled loudly, at least he thinks he did, and scrambled for any cover.  He twisted up under a small overhang in a debris pile.  He whined helplessly at the pain lancing through his body and poked his head out from under the cover.  He looked up the ceiling, wincing at all the bright lights and saw one flicker for a second, then followed by another.  He’d been set against a flying monster.

 

At the sound of the uproarious cheers, Castiel paused.  Another fight had started and his blood ran cold as he realized it was now Dean’s fight.  Castiel bolted back through the staging, the wrong one evidently, and stalled at the base of the stairs.  He moved as quietly as he could, knowing the guard was back at his post.  Thankfully, the guard stood the side of the entry way.

With nothing to throw now, Castiel waited with bated breath for the guard to look another direction.  As soon as he did, Castiel stole past him and made for the first hallway joining to this one.  He heard nothing behind him, which he took as an indicator he’d gotten away successfully.  Castiel made for the VIP room, making several wrong turns and getting turned around in the process.  Every time he did something wrong, anxiety and fear welled up inside him.  The past fights hadn’t lasted as long as they’d been scheduled.  From what he understood, from his brief conversation that had led him to the first staging area, Dean’s fights were quick.  That eased Castiel’s worry only a little.

Two minutes later, Castiel was composing himself and striding into the VIP room as casually as he could.  He went straight to the viewing window, where only a few people were paying attention.  He saw the harpie he’d claimed to be his circling near the arena lights.  He watched its pattern for a second before looking down to what it was circling.  From the booth, Castiel could only see a heap of twisted debris, but he knew Dean was beneath it.  He could hear the muffled sound of the harpie’s frustrated cries as it continued circling and occasionally diving lower.

A couple to Castiel’s left grumbled to themselves about the fight being remarkably lackluster compared to the skinwalker’s previous fights.  Castiel side eyed them with a tired scowled and sigh, then went back to watching the harpie just as the creature’s frustration reached peak.  The harpie squawked and landed a several yards from the twisted heap and cautiously and awkwardly shuffled forward.  It squawked and screeched with every hop forward, shuddering its wings.  The harpie was trying to antagonize Dean and draw him out from cover, but clearly he was having none of it.

The harpie bristled and moved forward as deliberately as its avian legs would allow.  It was now convinced Dean was nothing more than a scared dog.  It screeched once more, stretching its mouth wide and ducking down to snap at Dean. 

A shrill scream of surprise and pain made it clear to all the spectator’s the creature had made a mistake.  The harpie cried and thrashed, flapping its wings and scrambling at the ground in a desperate attempt to escape, but Dean, still hidden from Castiel’s view, had a strong hold on some part of its head.  The sudden change in the fight drew some more attention from the others in the VIP booth as a few of them began to speculate how the harpie would meet its end; Dean had left no survivors thus far.

The harpie wretched itself free, or rather, Dean had let it go.  The harpie staggered back, unable to gain balance and flapping its wings discordantly in panic.  Deep crimson stained the joint of its jaw and neck and splattered over the dusty ground.  Castiel couldn’t hear the harpie anymore, but perhaps it was for the best; the sounds it was making were deathly, panicked gurgles and squawks.

Dean stalked out from under the cover, his back to Castiel and completely focused on the creature in front of him.  The harpie made its best effort to regain some coordination to fly away from Dean, but he was lunging at it before it could even raise both wings.  His claws tore the membrane of both wings as his teeth sank into its shoulder.  The creature screamed and smacked at Dean, only to have a set of claws cleave at the joint between a wing and shoulder.  Dean kept clawing and slashing at the injured joint, even as the harpie stumbled and fell.  Dean kept his mouth clamped with an iron grip and stood over the fallen creature like he was waiting for its movements to die out.

The harpie continued to struggle weakly, only managing to lightly swat at Dean’s side.  One lucky tap caught the edge of the slashes in his back.  Dean snarled and released the harpie’s shoulder, moving up and biting down on its throat.  But he didn’t hold himself there.  Instead, he ripped his head back and took part of the creature’s throat with him.  The harpie opened its mouth wide in silent death cry and spasmed until the last of its life had left it.  In a moment of spite and anger, Dean snapped the damaged wing from its body, eliciting a full body seizure.  However, Dean mistook it for a renewed will to fight and set to tearing the dead harpie apart.

Castiel swayed in place, feeling dizzy and a little bit faint.  He quickly walked away from the window in search of either a chair or something cool to drink; preferably both.  He fell into the nearest empty seat, which happened to be a modest love-seat arrange with other furniture for socializing for the VIPs and owners.  He leaned forward and held his head in hands and took deep breathes to steady himself.  Then he immediately tried to reason what he’d just witnessed.

Dean was technically feral and had been nearly all his life, this probably wasn’t the first time he’d killed something brutally.  He’d probably done something similar to the cougar that had attacked Castiel when Castiel had gone looking for him back in December.  Or any of the animals whose pelts he brought back as presents.  On top of that, he was also forced into a fight.  It would’ve been either him or the harpie.

Castiel took another deep breath, reassuring himself Dean hadn’t been brutal for violence’s sake.  But the last bit of overkill… It left doubt in Castiel’s mind.  He shook his head to dismiss the thought and sat back.  He needed to get back to thinking about how to get Dean out of here and fast.  Tomorrow was the last day Ellen had granted him off, which was only extra motivation for getting Dean out of this hell.  He closed his eyes briefly, deciding that unless he could find Gabriel, searching the staging areas for Dean was the best start.

 

Dean awoke with a start in the dim light of the cell.  He had vague memories of attacking the harpie and thought for a second that it was a dream, but the taste of copper in his mouth told him those memories were real.  Between then and now though, he remembered nothing.  He rolled onto his front, wincing at the healing lacerations on his back and stabbing pain in both his hip and ribs.  It was just the same as after the handler’s had used their cattle prods on him.  They’d tazed him unconscious again. 

Dean growled weakly in anger and rolled onto his stomach, shaking his head to rid himself of the lingering haze of unconsciousness.  As he started to get up, he heard heavy footsteps coming.  He immediately recognized them as the group of handlers from just before his fight; they were coming back as promised.  Dean’s mind raced as he struggled to figure out what to do.  He hated being restrained, as any captive would, but he hated those pills even more.  He hated the way they made him feel and how they disrupted his memories and thoughts.  He didn’t know if that’s what the pills weren’t meant to do or if it was just a side effect.

The footsteps got closer and Dean made a split second decision.  He flopped back down, feigning unconsciousness once more.  The door to his cell groaned open and the handlers came inside; Dean could hear the soft rattle of the medications with each step.  There was a brief moment of hesitation before someone came forward and gave him a light kick to the chest.  Dean did his best to keep his face from twitching in reaction, but his lip still curled just slightly.

“Not all here yet,” the handler commented, “I think we tazed him too much this time.”

Another one kneeled down in front of him and Dean heard him move, but felt nothing.  Then he could feel his own warm breath; the handler had put his hand in front of Dean’s nose to check his breathing.

“I think we tazed him just right, he’s breathing and that’s all we need.”

They didn’t say anything more.  A handler kneeled down and straddled Dean’s midsection to hold him down.  Strong hands turned his head and held it firmly in place.  His entire body tensed as he realized they were still going to force the medication on him.  Another set of hands pried his mouth open.  Maybe, just maybe, If Dean didn’t resist then they wouldn’t make him take so many.

He was wrong.  Just as many ended up being dumped in his mouth.  The handlers really didn’t care how much they were dosing him with.  Dean coughed as the drugs stuck to his tongue and throat, sputtered and gagged when his mouth was held shut again.  He heaved and struggled to maintain his façade, but the gagging overwhelmed him.  He surged up, throwing off the two restraining him with the help of a short adrenaline burst.  One of them fell over and another was quick to try to take his place.  Dean managed to force his mouth open just enough to draw in a deep breath and hack a few pills up and out, swallowing the rest on an inhale.

“Goddammit!” the handler swore, backing away, “You know what?  If he needs drugs, just make the fuckin’ nurse do it!”

The other handlers were quick to scramble out of the door before Dean could do anything more.

“Meg doesn’t come down here though, she only treats the ones that come into the infirmary.”

Their voices were fading away now, thankfully.

“Well, then we’ll bring the damn beast up!”

“How?  He’s not cooperative.”

Whatever the answer was, Dean didn’t hear it.  Either they’d gotten too far away or it was because his hearing was fading.  He stumbled, dizzy from the quick effects of the drugs and the sick feeling settling in his stomach, but he couldn’t even hear his own claws scrape across the ground.  The cell became darker as it blurred, but never became entirely black.

Dean shook his head with a gruff growl, breathing deep and trying to regain his senses.  The ringing in his ears returned, this time more piercing.  He lifted his head, glaring and willing his sight to focus.  Everything looked worse now.  Not more blurry or darker, but worse in that everything looked more…intimidating.  He swore this had to be a hallucination, but it wouldn’t go away no matter how much he shook his head and blinked.

He caught sight of movement across walkway in the cell across from him.  The other beast paced back and forth, staring at him.  He couldn’t tell what it was, only that it had an angular body and walked on all fours.  No, it didn’t have front legs, those were wings.  It was using its wings to support its body as it paced.  He saw it open its mouth, probably in some squawk or cry, but Dean couldn’t hear anything over the ringing.  He grit his teeth in anger, growling louder and louder until he could feel the rumble in his bones to tell him he was actually making sound.  The other beast took offense and threw itself to the bars, noiselessly screeching more and gripping at the metal with its wings and hind legs.

The more is clamored at him, the worse the ringing in his hears got.  If the beast would just be quiet, it would hopefully start to fade away.  He turned his back on the monster and stalked into the corner, intent on ignoring it until it shut up.  But once again, the monster took offense and redoubled its efforts.  Dean reached his breaking point when the ringing became deafening.

Dean whipped around, throwing himself at the bars with a bark so loud and deep it bordered on a roar and rattled his own bones.  The beast flinched back, startled and scared.  It moved again and Dean barked and snapped at it, repeatedly just as it had been doing to him.

He didn’t stop until he couldn’t catch enough breath to continue his non-stop barking.  He drew in ragged breaths, feeling his throat was a little raw.  The beast had retreated into the shadows of its cell, out of Dean’s sight.  He waited for it to pop out of the shadows and resume pestering him, but it didn’t.  Still, Dean remained at the edge of his cell, head pressed against the metal and staring where it should be.

 

Castiel had found Gabriel.  He bumped into him when he was rounding the corner.  Gabriel played it lightly as if he’d been looking for Castiel and had finally found him.  Castiel didn’t find it so amusing and had demanded to know where Gabriel had gone.  Gabriel made a few flippant excuses, but Castiel gave him a heated glare until he admitted that when he’d gone to find the bathroom, he heard a commotion and curiosity got the better of him.

When Castiel asked him what it was, he told him it had been John and Sam.  They’d managed to find their way here and inside and had assaulted two guards and were in the process of taking their uniforms.  Castiel was about to call bullshit on Gabriel when two guards came around the corner.  Castiel stalled and looked at them for a second.  They really were John and Sam.

“Couple smart dudes, huh?” Gabriel complimented, “We shoulda borrowed some uniforms, we’d have access everywhere then.”

“It’ll be perfectly easy to get into staging areas now,” Castiel thought aloud.

“Staging areas?” Sam repeated, “How many are there?”

“Four,” Castiel answered, “I’ve already checked two of them.”

“Which ones?”

“One and two.”

“So Dean should be in either three or four, then.”

“Sam, you and Gabriel go check four,” John ordered, “Castiel and I will check three.”

They both looked to Castiel to lead them down to the staging areas.  Castiel led the way quickly and they followed close behind him.  The communicators on John and Sam’s borrowed uniforms buzzed with staticy words, but all they could understand was a fighter was being taken to the infirmary.  They dismissed the call, Dean didn’t need the infirmary.

As they came to the cross section at the end of the hall, they checked up and down.  They saw a group of handlers carrying something up the stairs that had an ‘ _Infirmary’_ sign with an arrow pointing up the stairs.  They waited out of sight until they couldn’t hear the group anymore before advancing.  Castiel and John stopped at a stairwell marked with a three, while Sam and Gabriel continued on down to the one marked four.  The guard in front of the stairwell gave John and Castiel a wary look, but let them pass.

John made a face of disgust at the smells coming from the staging area.  He could smell all the potent scents of blood, sweat, distress and bile.  The putrid scents grew heavier as they got closer to the cells, almost to the point of masking the scents of the actual creatures down below.  Castiel had gotten used to what little he could smell from checking the other two staging areas. 

They walked by all the cells, briefly checking inside each one.  Most of the creatures were oddly quiet compared to the others, Castiel noted.  He thought maybe the creatures were separated based on temperament or some other factor. 

“They’re all afraid,” John grumbled.

“I would be too,” Castiel hummed.

“No, something scared them all,” John sniffed at the air, “Pretty recently too.”

One cell they passed had a particularly strong scent of bile, but it was empty.  As was the cell across from it.  John frowned at stepped closer to the empty one with the strong scent.  He stepped inside cautiously.  He glanced around as he sniffed the air inside it, noticing a handful of scattered pills in the dim light and small staining from something throwing up.  He scented the air once more and their hairs on his neck stood up.

“Dean was here,” John murmured.

“Good riddance too…”

Castiel and John whipped around, searching for the cell the voice had come from.

“Damn dog was going crazy.”

John moved down two cells and found froze.  What he saw sitting against the wall was a blonde haired woman, fair skin and kind face.

“Mary…?” John murmured.

But what Castiel saw was a sandy haired man with freckles and built like brickhouse.

“Dean,” Castiel barely whispered.

“Must be who you want,” the creature shrugged, “Although, I don’t know why _you_ would want that mad dog.”

“What are you?” Castiel asked, “How do you look like two different people?”

“I’m a siren.  I can be anything you want,” the siren flashed them a smile.

John ignored the flirty tone and moved his gaze just to the left of the siren, not wanting to look at his ‘wife’.

“You know who Dean is,” John stated.

“Talk of the arena lately.  Magnus doesn’t like having skinwalkers here, from what I understand, it’s been over fifteen years since he let one in.”

Castiel opened his mouth to ask why, but John held his hand up to stop him from asking.

“Why did they take Dean?  Where is he?” John asked.

“Like I said, he was going crazy.  He lost his shit and started going off at an empty cell.  Probably because he wouldn’t take whatever they were trying to give him.  Or because they gave him too much…” the siren mused, “Either way, they took him out of here.”

“ _Where_?” John repeated.

“The infirmary,” the siren replied simply.

John swore under his breath and spun on his heels, making a beeline for the stairs.  Castiel lingered a moment, giving the siren an unsure look.  The siren flashed another smile, somewhere between flirty and deeply mischievous; one Castiel couldn’t ever recall seeing on Dean’s face.  He shuddered and followed after John.

They kept themselves composed as they came to the top of the stairs and went straight to the set of stairs leading to the infirmary.  Once they were out of earshot of the guard, Castiel moved closer to John.

“What about Sam and Gabriel?”

“They’ll have to figure it out,” John bit, “We don’t have time for this.”

He was right.  They were doing something to Dean, on top of forcing him to fight.  They followed the subsequent signs to the infirmary and came to another cross section, one side having white double doors and the unsettling scent of sterility.  John strode forward, pushing both doors open with Castiel right behind him.  The small waiting area was empty and no one was at the front desk.

“Hello?” John called.

No response.  John moved past the desk and the dividing wall to the open bay area behind them.  It looked something like another waiting area, maybe an area for basic exams or check-ups.  John caught Dean’s scent and took a step to follow it, only to be stopped by a shorter, dark haired woman.

“You boys have no patience, you know that?”

“Who’re you?” John asked.

“The nurse.  The only one here and not getting paid enough for it,” the nurse commented dryly.

“Then you can tell me where Dean is.”

“Time for his next fight already?  Pff, you’re gonna have to tell Magnus to cancel or reschedule it then.”

The nurse waved them off and started towards another room.  John grabbed her by the arm and spun her back around.  She flicked her eyes down to where he held her and smiled coyly.

“Little rough with someone you don’t know.”

“I don’t care,” John snipped, “Where is Dean?”

“And I told you, if you’re here to get him for fight, it’s not happening,” the nurse freed her arm, “He needs to stay here for a while, thanks to you morons.  And you too.”

“Me?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, you— Oh, you’re not Michael,” the nurse realized.

“What’s Michael done?” Castiel asked.

“He’s not the most caring owner, if we’re being honest,” the nurse sighed, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some animals to care for.”

She started to leave again, but John stepped in her way.

“Boy, you sure know how to make a girl feel threatened.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Because you don’t need to know.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

John pressed his lips, trying to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t give anything away.

“Mm-hmm, that’s what I thought,” the nurse side stepped him.

“Michael wants to see him,” Castiel blurted.

“Then tell pretty-boy to come down here himself.”

The nurse disappeared around the corner, no doubt going to one of the operatories.  John bristled and started after her.  Castiel ran in front of him to stop him.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Castiel spoke quietly.

“Why not?” John growled.

“Because if we push her too much, she might call an actual guard,” Castiel pointed out, “He’s here and not allowed to leave, we can find him on our own.”

John stared down at Castiel for a minute before raising his eyebrows and tilting his head, silently saying Castiel had a good point.  He still went the same direction the nurse had gone, but paused to make sure she wasn’t around.  There was a line of widely spaced doors, each with a number and a locking door knob.  John tried the first one; it was unlocked and swung open almost without sound.  There was nothing in the room, save for medical equipment and a table.  At the far end, there was another door.  John tried that one as well, but it was locked.  He grimaced and walked swiftly back out of the room and tried the next door; locked.  They checked all ten rooms, only three of them opened to an empty room.

“Now what?” John grumbled.

“We need her keys,” Castiel said.

He turned back, going up to the front desk to check the drawers.  He rounded the corner and reached for the first drawer, just as he noticed someone standing in the waiting area.  Now it was Castiel’s turn to freeze.

“Castiel, what are you doing?” Michael asked.

 

The nurse, Meg, had left the two men behind.  She found it mildly curious how much the one in the suit resembled Michael and the guard didn’t look like any she’d met, but didn’t give it much thought as she went to check on Dean.  She went down to the last room, marked number ten and locked the door behind her.  Inside the room, Dean was laying peacefully on the table, induced into slumber by a cocktail of drugs fed through an IV line.  The EKG monitors beeped at a relaxed pace, telling her Dean was just where he should be now.  She put on a pair of gloves and cautiously opened one eye.

She bit her lip and whimpered softly at the sight of how much the blackness had covered.  Either it wasn’t a simple infection that antibiotics could take care of or it was the bumbling idiots Michael had trusted not giving Dean the antibiotics.  She straightened up with a sigh and went to the door opposite door she’d come in to go into the lab.  Just as she put her hand on the handle, she heard the other door handle jiggle. 

Now she gave it some thought.  She’d met all the guards and there hadn’t been any new hires in over a month.  She frowned at the handle and stepped into the lab, immediately pressing the button for security and briefly stated the problem into the receiver beside the button.

The signal sent out to all the guards, including Sam.  The communicator on his shoulder flashed a little red light and spoke in a robotic voice.

_‘Security needed in— the infirmary.’_

Sam glanced down at Gabriel curiously.

_‘Security needed in— the infirmary.’_

A few voices came over the communicator and Sam moved it closer to his ear, listening intently to it.  He picked up that there were two intruders in the infirmary who’d been asking about the skinwalker and had refused to leave.

Sam didn’t wait for Gabriel’s reaction, he immediately bolted for the infirmary.  Three other guards were making their way to the infirmary alongside Sam; Gabriel was trailing behind a bit.  The doors were pushed open and Sam could see three people in the infirmary. 

 

Michael took a couple slow steps closer, narrowing his eyes at his younger brother.  Castiel slowly curled his fingers into a fist, cursing his luck and the whole situation.

“Castiel,” Michael growled.

“I…am here to get Dean,” Castiel spoke as evenly and determined as he could.

“I thought so,” Michael snipped.

“Are these the two intruders?” the nearest guard asked.

“Yes.”

“Detain the intruders!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am a piece of shit with no sense of time :(  
> but the next chapter, maybe next two are gonna be the climax of this arc and then i believe we're gonna start winding down (not sure how long that's gonna take)


	23. Beast Break

Castiel sat in the small detention room, shifting uncomfortably and anxiously in the metal chair at the table.  Absently, he thought the room looked like the stereotypical interrogation room on TV shows and movies; it even had a two way mirror.  He scratched at the side of his head, suppressing a frustrated groan, just wishing that they would get on with whatever they were going to do.  The thought popped in his head that maybe they were just trying to waste his time more than anything.

Five minutes later, the door clicked and opened.  Castiel gave a quick prayer that it wasn’t Michael before looking over his shoulder.  It was the man he’d met earlier in the VIP booth, Magnus.  He furrowed his brows in confusion, wondering what he was doing here.  Then it dawned on Castiel that when Magnus had introduced himself as ‘owner’, he didn’t mean of any fighter.  He meant he was the owner of the arena.  A litany of swears and curses raced through Castiel’s mind as he quickly turned his attention back the table.

“James,” Magnus said, “Or Castiel?  As your brother tells me.”

“Castiel….”

Magnus walked around to the otherside of the table and remained standing; there was no second chair.  Castiel chanced a glance up at him.  He looked slightly angry, but more so thoughtful, like he was trying to solve a difficult problem.  Castiel swallowed nervously as Magnus hummed, putting his hand to his chin in thought.

“I understand your after Dean.”

Castiel gave a small nod.

“And what is it you intend to do?”

“What?”

“What do you intend to do?  Once you have Dean, of course.”

“Um… Leave?” Castiel ventured.

“That’s it?  Just take him and go home to— where is it… Missoula?”

“Y-yes,” Castiel replied.

He hadn’t been expecting this question and wasn’t sure what Magnus was trying to get at.  Magnus turned and half sat on the table, folding his hands in his lap.

“What would you say…” Magnus started, “If I said I want you to take him.”

Castiel’s mouth fell open and worked uselessly for a second.

“You see, as much profit as he’s begun generating so quickly…  Just as fast, he’s showing signs of a very serious illness that I do not want in my arena.”

“Is that why he was in the infirmary?” Castiel asked quickly, “What’s wrong?”

“It is.  And in short, he has a mental illness that affects skinwalkers and drives them insane,” Magnus answered, “The rate depends on their heritage and their environment and such, but Dean seems to be on a very quick decline.”

Castiel stared up at him, squinting his eyes a bit.  Magnus dropped his gaze with a sigh.  This was a look he often received whenever the topic came up.  Nobody ever took it seriously until it happened.

“Believe me or don’t,” Magnus breathed, “I would like him to leave though.  Your friend there, he wouldn’t say anything to me.  I don’t think he trusted me.  But I did get a reaction from him when I mentioned Dean’s state of mind.”

Of course, John wouldn’t trust him.  Castiel didn’t trust him.  This was too much in their favor.  Castiel sat back and scrubbed his hands down his face, then looked up at Magnus again in disbelief.

“I cannot help you, for obvious reasons, but as thanks if you manage to succeed, I will take care of your breaking and entering case from breaking into Michael’s home,” Magnus offered.

Castiel eyed him for another moment.  The more he thought about it, the more it actually started to sound like a reasonable idea.  Why would he not accept the offer?  Not only was Magnus going to let him continue what he came to do, but he was also going to get him out of the breaking and entering charge.  Castiel wouldn’t be able to do that, he had nothing to dismiss the charge.  He felt his heart palpitate hard in his chest as he looked up again.

“I’ll take him,” Castiel spoke.

He wasn’t sure how to word his response, but Magnus seemed pleased with it.

“Excellent!” Magnus smiled, “You’ll be released shortly, I only ask that you be more careful.”

Castiel nodded as Magnus stood up and walked towards the door.

“Oh and one more thing,” Magnus added, “Meg always takes her lunch at one for an hour.”

With that, Magnus stepped out and shut the door behind himself.  Castiel took a deep breath and sat back in the chair, waiting for someone to come and release him.

 

Whatever this was, Dean hated it.  It couldn’t be unconsciousness, he’d become quite familiar with that as of late.  The only similarity between unconsciousness and this was that he couldn’t tell how much time was passing.  He struggled to move, to do even as much as flick his paw, but his body refused to move.  He tried to open his eyes, but they felt like they’d been sealed shut.  His entire body felt completely immobilized, but it wasn’t immune to feeling.  He could _feel_ something thin in his leg and whatever it was, it was the source of the very odd sensation of something cold coursing through his veins.  He tried to growl in discomfort and disdain, but he didn’t feel the reverberation in his chest. 

After a time, the cold sensation began to warm and became unnoticeable.  At that point, Dean felt his mind quieting and slipping back into unconsciousness.  He welcomed it this time, it was better than this strange state of wakefulness. 

There was a sudden flood of icy feeling rushing through his veins, making him painful aware of each and every one.  He cringed and made another effort to move, but all his got was a small, constant shivering.  It was small progress from before, but it never got better.  He couldn’t move beyond that and he couldn’t stop shivering.  Whatever this new stuff was was even colder than before.  Every muscle felt like it was going numb, one by one, but he never slipped back into unconsciousness.  Instead, he only felt like he was becoming detached from his body.

It got to the point that he thought he was floating up out of his own body.  He knew he couldn’t move, but he seemed to have forgotten that detail as he made his damnedest effort to grab onto himself and stay on the table; he assumed he was on a table. 

There was another flooding feeling, this one like a wild fire suddenly searing through him.  It didn’t warm his body or bring him back down.  It accelerated the detachment feeling, like something was now prying him away from his body despite all his best efforts to remain whole.  Panic and adrenaline surged inside him, mixing with the fire inside him and recreated the electrocution of the cattle prods.

He kept trying to hold on, enduring the lightning pain lancing through his body and mind for as long as he could.  His rising fear and pain only served to intensify the torture, even after what had to be hours, maybe even days at this point.  In his head, he howled and gnashed his teeth to try to keep pushing through it, but at a certain point, he couldn’t fight it anymore.  With a high pitched yelp, he gave up and recoiled away from the pain.

Dean was more than convinced he’d been flung from his own body and whatever room he’d been in.  Hell, he’d probably been thrown from the building.  But he was finding it hard to care now.  He felt better.  So much better.  The past several days had been nothing but pain, fear, torture and confusion; the latter being directed at the odd way Castiel had been behaving.  He thought about it for a minute, now having the clear headspace to do so, but he couldn’t focus on it for long.  He just felt so good now.  It was the same peaceful, warm hazy feeling he got after he and Castiel had sex.  Maybe it was even better than that. 

 

“What the hell is going on with you, huh?” Meg grumbled.

She’d been constantly monitoring Dean since he’d been brought in.  She’d changed the IV bag countless times, taken more samples than she had fingers and tried at least three different drug cocktails in effort to stabilize him.  Nothing had worked, not even a little bit.  Every drug actually made things worse.  Whatever the drug was intended to lower, it did the opposite and raised it. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sigh before walking up to Dean again.  She leaned over a bit, placing her fingers around his right eye and spread his eye lids.  His eyes were nearly a solid black, only a few flecks of bright green gold remained visible in the muddled green area that had been his iris not too long ago.  

Meg bit her lip.  Not only was she beginning to doubt herself, she was beginning to wonder if Magnus’ paper on hysteria held any truth.  She shook her head aggressively, of course it didn’t.  It was ridiculous.  She picked up a clip board and wrote down Dean’s vitals and the time again, before picking up another syringe and taking yet another sample.

She took it back to the lab to let the machines test it for a couple minutes and came back to Dean while she waited.  The EKG monitor displayed the green line more level and relaxed than it had been before.  Remarkably more relaxed.  Meg narrowed her eyes in suspicion and moved carefully closer.  She lightly moved Dean’s paw to test him, but his paw went with her movements and fell limply back when he pulled away.  She placed her hand over his ribs and could feel him quivering beneath her, but he didn’t react even as she shook him.  Meg dared to poke at his mouth, but still nothing.  She fidgeted a bit before opening his eye again.  It was solid black now.  Meg crossed her arms and tapped her foot in thought. 

“There’s really no definitive proof of anything here…” Meg thought aloud, “Maybe it’s a variant of jaundice.  Doesn’t explain anything else, but…”

Meg shrugged, deciding to test for jaundice.  Unsurprisingly, it was negative.  She gave an exasperated groan.  She checked Dean’s vitals once again, as well as the time.  She still had a while before lunch, but she had other patients to tend to.  On top of that, beating her head against a wall like this wasn’t doing her any favors.  A little break to clear her head would do her some good, as well as Dean. 

“Alright, back in five,” Meg hummed.

 

               

Castiel glanced over his shoulder as they left the detention center.  Their escorts were giving them dirty looks as they pulled the door shut.  Castiel narrowed his eyes back at them and faced forward.  He thought about what Magnus had said, about Dean’s oncoming mental illness.  Castiel liked to think he knew quite a bit about skinwalkers at this point, but Dean had never mentioned anything like an illness that targeted them specifically. 

“John?”

“What?” John growled.

“Is there…some sickness that only skinwalkers can get?”

John stopped in his tracks.  Castiel took a few more steps and turned back to face him.  John had been trying not to think about since Magnus had mentioned it him.

“Why do you ask?”

“Magnus said Dean has something that only affects skinwalkers and drives them insane.”

“It’s a bedtime story,” John replied shortly.

Up until now, everything John said, he said with either anger or annoyance.  Maybe there was some affection buried deep down.  But that, that had been laced with clear doubt.  That was all it took to have fear turning Castiel’s blood to ice and draining color from his face.

“It’s a _bedtime story_ ,” John repeated.

He spoke with more conviction this time, but there was still an ‘ _I hope’_ that went unspoken.  He shook his head at Castiel and brushed past him roughly.  Castiel blinked a few times and followed suit.

“Even if it is,” Castiel started, “What is it?”

“If skinwalkers are alone too long and under stress, their minds become unstable,” John replied, “It’s radio silence from them, their eyes turn black and they—“

John waved his hands in a vague motion, in search of a word.

“Act erratically and spontaneously,” John finished.

“Can they be healed?”

“Of course.”

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief.

“If you kill them.”

Castiel stopped at stared at John’s back in disbelief.

“What?  Any story about ‘em ends with them gettin’ killed,” John said, “I used to tell it to Sam and Dean so they wouldn’t wander off.”

Castiel gritted his teeth and followed after John.  They strode down the halls quickly, occasionally getting curious glances from a few attendees and warning glares from the guards they passed.  Magnus had let them go on the promise of taking Dean.  Even though he’d said he couldn’t help, he did a little bit.  He’d ordered the guards not to arrest them unless they were caught in the act of doing something wrong.  Or if Michael called the guards on him, as Magnus had kindly not him of their release. 

Castiel thought about how they were going to do this as they walked, John hadn’t said anything about a plan yet.  If they could find Sam and Gabriel before they found Dean, they could pretend they were escorting them.  As far as Castiel knew, they hadn’t been found out yet.  Then the only hard part would be avoiding Michael, easy enough.

“We should find Gabriel and Sam first,” Castiel spoke up.

John glanced over his shoulder, not in the mood for using words.  Castiel quietly explained his plan, to which John commented it was half-baked and too optimistic.  He wasn’t wrong, but Castiel indignantly pointed out it was better than his plan.  John narrowed his eyes at him, but changed directions.  He led them away from the infirmary and back towards the staging areas.

Castiel could see two guards ahead of them, one tall and the other short, and John walked swiftly up to them.  He knew immediately it was Sam and Gabriel, John must’ve caught their scent.  He grabbed Sam by the shoulder and spun him around, surprising Gabriel more than he did Sam.  John muttered Castiel’s plan to them; both of them seemed more inclined to it than John had.  Sam and Gabriel took the lead then, assuming the role of escorting them.

 

“Meg,” Michael called.

He waited for a response.

“Meg!”

“What can I help you with, your holiness?” Meg sighed bitterly as she came around the corner.

“Are you still treating Dean?”

“Trying to, yeah,” Meg grumbled.

“What do you mean ‘trying to’?”

“I mean, _trying to_ ,” Meg emphasized, “Nothing’s working so far.  All I can do is keep him under to keep him calm and rested.”

“Do you at least know what’s wrong?  What you’re trying to treat him for?”

“Not a clue,” Meg admitted casually.

“Then let him go.”

“No can do.”

“Why not?”

“Think of it as probable cause,” Meg smirked.

She’d never liked Michael much.  In the few interactions she had with him, most of them as of late, he’d rubbed her the wrong way.  Watching him get irritated was both satisfying and annoying.

“You’re not a police officer,” Michael snipped.

“And you aren’t medically certified,” Meg countered, “Dean’s staying here til he’s stable again.”

With that, she spun on her heels and walked away.  She ignored Michael as he yelled after her, she knew he wouldn’t follow her back.  This was her own little kingdom in the arena, she was in complete control here, Magnus had promised her that as part of hiring her.  She stopped once she’d gotten out of site and smiled smugly to herself as she listened to Michael swearing until he stormed out, throwing the doors open.

Meg gave a little laugh and a sigh as she, once again, went into Dean’s room.  All the monitors were displaying his vitals as stable, but she didn’t trust the machines at the moment.  His eyes were still blacker than coal and not getting at all better.  She changed his IV yet again, the fresh, cool liquid sending shivers through his unconscious body, and added another round of chemicals to the IV line to keep him under.  She took another blood sample and tested it, mentally grumbling at how repetitive and monotonous this had gotten.  The results came back slightly different, they indicated all his bodily chemicals had settled finally.  But not in the way they should be.  Various chemicals were either too high or too low and his cell counts were off.

Meg ran a hand through her hair and sighed.  She’d do two more tests on him to see if he maintained the stability.  If they did, she would start weaning the IV and slowly wake him up.  But before that, she needed to know what was going on with his eyes.  She’d need to do either an angiogram, eye ultrasound or a biopsy.  Unfortunately, since she’d never run across a problem like this, she didn’t have the equipment for an angiogram and she’d requested an ultrasound machine weeks ago; it still hadn’t arrived.  Biopsy it was then.

She went into the lab and grabbed a syringe, needle and a few empty carpules.  It was a simple enough procedure, she’d done it a few times before.  She loaded the carpule into the syringe and screwed the needle down into it.  Meg held Dean’s eye open with one hand, pausing to decide where to take a sample from.  Technically, it was all infected so she could take it from anywhere.  But she didn’t want to get his iris or his pupil and they were both invisible with all the black.  She aimed low on his eye, figuring he’d rolled his eyes up in his state. 

The carpule filled vitreous gel, stained black from the unknown infection.  The following two samples went the same.  She took them into the lab, putting one on a glass slide and studying it under the microscope.  There were no obvious indicators of anything, everything looked fine.  It was just…darker.  Meg pursed her lips in annoyance and set the other two samples up for testing.  The tests would be done just before her lunch break, but her stomach was starting to growl now.  There’d be no harm in going to lunch a bit early, if anything, she come back as early as she left.

 

 

John, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel had been waiting a few turns down from the infirmary.  They’d planned on waiting until just a few minutes after one to go into the infirmary to make sure Meg had gone to lunch.  They knew which three rooms Dean wasn’t in, which would save them a little bit of time.  Once they were sure Meg was on lunch, the moved quickly to the infirmary.  They opened the doors as quietly as they could and did their best not to make a sound as they moved around.  Just because she was on lunch, it didn’t necessarily mean she’d left.

Castiel and Sam went through the drawers of the desk quickly in search of any keys to unlock the rooms.  They’d found two keys, but they didn’t open any doors.  One was meant for the cabinets containing files and the other was for the door to the infirmary.  Castiel ground his teeth, mentally smacking himself for not thinking that Meg would keep the operatory door keys on her person.  He thought about going into one of the unlocked rooms and going through the door on the opposite side before he remembered those had been locked as well.

He raised both his hands and dug his nails into the sides of his head, suppressing a frustrated groan.  Maybe if they could find a screw driver, they could just remove the door knobs.  Castiel checked the knob of the closest room and, of course, the screws were located on the inside of the rooms.  And the doors on the opposite sides of the rooms likewise had their screws on the other side.  They would need to get the keys from Meg.  Castiel gave a muted sigh in defeat.

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw John going through the desk drawers again.  He tapped John on the side of the arm.

 _‘What are you doing?’_ Castiel mouthed.

_‘Lockpick.’_

Castiel frowned.  Anything that could be found in the drawer wouldn’t be a suitable lockpick.  The best case scenario, it just wouldn’t work.  Worst case, it would break inside the lock and raise suspicion and alarm.  Castiel went to tap John on the shoulder again and tell him just as much, but Sam stopped him.

_‘Trust him.’_

Castiel gave him a skeptical look, but listened.  John found two thin pieces of metal; one looked like a thin letter opener and the appeared to be a skinny rod that had broken off of something.  John carefully bent the end of the skinny rod and stole back to the hallway of doors.  He stopped at the first one, putting his ear to the door for any sound and kneeled down in search of a scent drifting out from below the door.  He glared at the first door and moved onto the next, checking each one just the same until he came to the last one.

He didn’t bother checking the door, by process of elimination he knew Dean was in this room.  John kneeled down and inserted the two pieces of metal into the door knob.  He worked the skinny rod delicately, listening intently and feeling for something.  Every few seconds, there was a tiny quirk at the corner of John’s mouth, a little pride at satisfaction at something.  Then there was full blown pride and relief on his face as he moved the skinny rod with the letter opener and the door knob spun.  The door clicked and glided open quietly.  The same look spread across the other three’s faces.

Only for it to be dashed immediately.

Meg stood there, staring back at them.  They stared back at her, Castiel and Gabriel’s mouths falling open.

“And what the _hell_ —“

Meg was interrupted by a sudden furious snarl from John and the sound his clothes tearing.  Meg dropped the small syringes of medications and staggered back a few steps from the snarling wolf.

“I take it this is a rescue mission,” Meg ventured carefully, “Look, I’m not hurting him.  I’m on your side.”

“If you’re on our side, you won’t call the guards again,” Castiel snapped.

“I didn’t know what you were here for before,” Meg defended.

“Now you do, so just let us take him,” Sam said.

“Love to.  But I can’t,” Meg shrugged.

John growled lowly, crouching and crawling closer.

“I really would love to,” Meg said quickly, “It’d be a huge weight off my shoulders.  But I really can’t.  I mean I _can_ , but I shouldn’t.  Something’s wrong with him.”

“Well that explains why he’s in the infirmary,” Gabriel smirked, “I couldn’t think of any reason he’d be here!”

“Listen, short-stack,” Meg cut, “I mean seriously wrong.  No treatments have had any effect on him.”

“And what’s so wrong with him?” Gabriel challenged.

“He… Magnus _might_ be right,” Meg sighed, “He might have Hysteria, he’s tested negative on everything else so far.”

“What’s—“

“I don’t believe you,” Sam cut.

“I don’t want to believe me either, but I’m at a loss here.  Take a look for yourself.”

She motioned one hand to Dean’s still body.  Sam hesitated for a second, but moved after a look from John.  Castiel and Gabriel watched him as his hand went to Dean’s face.  They could see he opened Dean’s eye, but they couldn’t see what made the color drain so rapidly from Sam’s face.

“How?  It’s barely been two weeks!”

“I’m not the expert on this, clearly,” Meg replied dryly, “All I know is stress can speed it up.”

“This much?”

“Being a fighter ain’t easy.  Plus those handlers aren’t exactly a friendly bunch and _your_ idiot brother,” Meg glared at Castiel, “Put them in charge of giving him his medications, so who knows what the hell happened there.”

“Can you heal him?” Sam asked.

“Obviously not,” Meg snapped, “That’s what I’ve been trying to do and… I think I made things worse.”

John sprung forward, roared and gnashed his teeth at her.  Meg scrambled back, pressing herself as flat as possible to the wall.  John put his paws on either side of her, standing almost to full height and growling in her face.  Meg screwed her eyes shut and turned her ahead away from him.

“I don’t know what to do!” Meg yelled.

“If you can’t do anything to help, we’re taking him,” Sam growled.

“And you can help him?  Please, I’ve read Magnus’ paper.  There’s nothing you can do, his best chance is here.”

“No, it isn’t.  All you’ve done is make it worse, you admitted that!” Castiel barked.

“We’ll find a way to heal him,” Sam promised.

“If he really does have Hysteria, taking him from here and waking him up is the worst thing you can do,” Meg warned.

Sam ignored her.  He closed the clamp on the IV line and set to removing all the monitors hooked up to Dean.

“Alright, fine.  You guys wanna die?  Go ahead,” Meg spit, “Least you can do is let me leave before he wakes up.”

John curled his lips with another rumbling growl.

“I won’t call anyone.  I’m supposed to be on lunch now anyway, I don’t know what’s going on,” Meg offered.

“Just let her go,” Castiel said.

John parted his teeth in a vicious warning snarl before pushing off the wall and falling back on all fours.  Meg whipped around and dashed through the door to the lab quickly, locking it behind herself.  A second later, there was the dull groaning of a heavy object moving on the otherside of the door.

“Did she just…barricade herself?” Gabriel asked.

There was a soft whimper from Dean, indicating the meds keeping him under were starting to wear off.  He twitched weakly and flexed his paws.  Dean whimpered again, shutting his eyes tightly as he attempted to move.  He managed to drag one paw up and place it over his face, much as Castiel had seen him do when he woke Dean up before he wanted to be awake.

Sam stepped back, taking a more defensive stance.  John placed himself between Dean and Castiel and Gabriel.  Castiel thought to himself that this illness wasn’t a bedtime story like John had said.

 

Up to this point, Dean had been alone in this warm place.  It hadn’t even been a place, really.  It had been a void, but now it was changing.  Blurred colors and outlines of objects began to take shape painstakingly slow.  He couldn’t identify where he was, but he could tell people were with him now.  The people were just as blurry, unidentifiable by sight.  But not by scent. 

The figure in front of him was Sam, to his left and below was John.  There were two others behind them that took a second longer to place.  Dean felt slightly ashamed he couldn’t recognize Castiel as quickly as his brother and father.  The fourth person, he didn’t think he knew the name of.  The scent was only vaguely familiar, he might’ve only met him once before.

Dean tried to talk to them, to tell them he couldn’t see very well, that he couldn’t feel anything other than this warm, fuzzy feeling; not even his own body.  However, no words came out of his mouth, only grunts and weak growls.  Dean looked down and saw he was in his wolf form.  He attempted to change, but even the thought of it was too taxing.  Instead, he tried to reach out to Sam and John.  He could convey everything through a sort of telepathy.  But he was met with nothing but silence.  He tried again and was rewarded with an ear piercing ring and sparks of pain that made him sick to his stomach and took away the warmth.  Dean recoiled back and into himself and the unpleasantness subsided slowly.

Something was wrong with him, he knew that.  And hopefully the others knew that too.  He thought that if he just rested a bit more, everything would come into focus and he would start feeling again.  After all, relaxing and not fighting the pain anymore had gotten him this far.

 

Dean was laying on his stomach, head lifted and staring at them with black eyes.  He didn’t move, he didn’t blink.  They even wondered if he was breathing.  Sam cautiously dared to reach out to his brother; all he got was a chaotic static noise.

“M-Meg might’ve been right,” Sam whispered, barely audible, “Move slowly.  Very slowly.”

Castiel swallowed thickly and shifted his weight.  He moved slower than he ever thought he could, all the while never looking away from Dean’s black eyes.  Dean’s gaze didn’t follow him, at least it didn’t look like it. 

Gabriel followed, accidentally stepping on John’s paw.  John clenched his jaw and tensed up, willing himself not to react.  Gabriel mouthed an apology and jerked his leg back to get off John’s paw.  At his movement, John and Sam flicked their eyes to Dean; he still hadn’t moved even so much as a millimeter. 

A painfully long minute later, both of them were outside the door to the operatory room and moving faster away from the room.

“What do we do?” Gabriel asked.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Comforting, bro.  Real comforting.”

Back inside the room, Sam was asking John the same thing and getting the same answer.  They should’ve listened to Meg.  At the very least, they should’ve asked for something that would keep Dean under long enough for them to get away from people.  John then gave Sam a clear message. 

_Run.  Don’t lose him, but run._

Sam didn’t like that plan, but it was all they had.  Both of them tensed for a second, then John bolted.  Sam was right behind him, tearing through his clothes as his body twisted with transformation.  Dean’s ears went flat as he let loose a vicious barking roar and tore after them.

Castiel and Gabriel’s eyes went wide at the heart-stopping sound, Gabriel might’ve even shit himself at it.  Not even half a second later, John and Sam went barreling past them, trying not to shove each other and them in the process.   They did knock Castiel and Gabriel aside and down, though it was for the better as it moved them out of Dean’s way as he shot by after them.

Castiel pushed at Gabriel in a desperate attempt to get back on his feet and run after them.  The three of them were long gone before the doors of the infirmary even closed.  Castiel stopped outside the doors and waited with baited breath.  It only took a second before he heard the first shriek come echoing down the hall.  He turned and ran towards it, not even bothering to wait for his brother.

“Are you crazy?!” Gabriel yelled after him.          

“No!”

“Then why are you running _to_ the scream of terror?!”

Castiel didn’t answer him.  There was another scream, this time accompanied by a series of loud barks and snarls.  The sounds were getting louder and clearer; the three of them must’ve stopped there.  Castiel took the next turn too fast and fell into the opposite wall.  He looked up to see that, yes, Dean, Sam and John were still there.

Sam and John were barking and snapping at Dean, who had suddenly lost all interest in them.  He was more preoccupied with the terrified, screaming and bleeding person beneath him.  Castiel felt the bile rise up in his throat as Dean sank his teeth into the man’s neck and shook him like a rag doll.  He covered his mouth and slid down the wall, unable to look away. 

John bristled and lunged forward, this time biting Dean’s hind leg.  Dean dropped the now lifeless body and wheeled on John.  John jumped back, just narrowly avoiding Dean’s bloodied teeth.  They had Dean’s attention again and took off once more.

Castiel pushed himself up on shaky legs just as Gabriel caught up.  Seeing the blood splatter and mangled body, Gabriel’s face went snow white and he swayed in place.  Castiel paid him no mind as he forced himself to start running again.  He steps were faulty and uncoordinated at first, he even slipped in the blood, but he regained his footing quickly as he kept moving.

This time there was a chorus of frightened screams and furious barking, followed by shouting and gun fire.  Castiel’s stomach dropped, but he didn’t stop; nor did the screaming.  The next scene Castiel saw, one person was already dead on the floor, though not as mangled.  There was a couple cowering against the wall, holding each other for dear life behind the defense of a guard and a handler.  Dean lunged at the two armored people before Sam and Dean could stop him. 

Dean clamped his jaw down on the handler’s arm with enough force to crack the armor.  The handler yelped in fear and tried to shake his arm, which only prompted Dean into wretching his head back and forth like he was trying to tear the arm off.  He slashed blindly at the handler with his claws, rending the fabric off and exposing the armor.  Dean lessened his bite, then chomped down again, this time sending a bold crack across the armlet and breaking it off. 

The guard radioed for help, even as Sam and John threw themselves against Dean to stop him from mauling the handler.  Sam danced back when Dean snapped at his legs with his lips quivering in a snarl.  It gave John the chance to nip at Dean’s flank and draw his attention back, but he didn’t hold Dean’s attention long enough. 

Dean jumped on the guard, claws raking down his exposed face with a wicked roar.  The man dropped to the floor, screaming and clutching at his face.  Dean bite down on one hand with enough force that the sound of bones snapping bounced off the concrete walls. 

This time it was Sam who went at Dean.  He bite down on his brother’s tail, earning short yelp.  Dean whirled around, going up on his hind legs and outstretching his claws.  Sam blanched and darted out of the way.  He resumed running down the hall, followed closely by Dean, then John.

Castiel wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing another attack like this.  He still ran after them, but only ran fast enough to maintain a certain distance behind them, not to catch up.  There were more panicked screams, growls and barks, but Castiel didn’t come across another bloodied portion of hall or dead bodies.  The screaming became more consistent as they came closer to viewing areas, but there were only maimed bodies along the way.  A few of them would probably die later from their wounds, but Castiel did his best to ignore that.

He heard the sound of a door being broken open and a room full of screams.  Castiel skidded to a halt a few yards from the splintered door.  It was a VIP room.  Several people ran out in terror, most of them having a light smattering of blood or lacerations and torn clothing.  There were a few gurgled cries, barely audible over the mad and desperate barking.  Castiel staggered back a few steps.  He couldn’t go in there.  Besides, there was no other way out, not unless they went through the window and down into the arena.  There was no way in hell Castiel was going to step in the way of the only exit with Dean on a rampage like this.

He took a few more careful steps back, just to be safe.  The gurgled cries died out and left snarling and growling.  There was a sharp bark, then John and Dean tumbled back through the door into the hallway.  Dean kicked John off, throwing him into a wall, and quickly righted himself.  His head snapped up in Castiel’s direction and Dean’s entire body went rigid.

 

Dean was feeling a little better, things were more in focus now, though still a bit blurry.  He could move again, which was a plus.  Castiel and the other person had left, but John and Sam had prompted him into moving when he didn’t think he could.  They kept encouraging him to, trotting a short distance away.  When he stumbled or bumped into something, they stopped and came back to him.  Dean tripped on something he didn’t see and staggered back to his feet. 

When he looked up, he saw Castiel waiting for him.  His concern for his well-being earlier had faded as he got better, leaving room for a wave of joy upon seeing Castiel.  It took him a second to regather his strength and start towards Castiel.  His vision blurred and tilted, but his shook his head with an annoyed huff.

 

Dean lowered his head, bristling and ears flat as his teeth parted with a seething, rumbling growl.  He stalked forward, scrapping his claws against the hard flooring with each step.  Castiel shook with fear, unsure if it would be better to keep still or to run.  He’d never out run Dean, but keeping in place didn’t seem smart either.

Both John and Sam came to his rescue and tackled Dean to the ground.  Dean twisted around and took a shot at John; his teeth pierced into the thin flesh of John’s ear, tearing half of it away, and his claws sliced across his shoulder.  John howled in pain as he recoiled and blood gushed from his head.  Sam bit at Dean, nicking his foreleg, and jumped back before Dean could retaliate.  He took another opportunity and went to claw at Dean’s back.  It was over zealous and Sam had to abort the attack as Dean surged up beneath him, mouth stretched wide and going for his stomach. 

Sam stood up higher on his hind legs to save himself, Dean’s teeth only grazed him and took a small patch of fur, but Sam lost his balance and fell on his back.  Dean was on him in an instant and about to go for his throat.

“ _Dean!”_

Dean froze and stared at Castiel again.

“Cas, _run!”_ Gabriel screamed.

Without thought, Castiel spun and ran for his life.  He knocked Gabriel aside as he ran, casting a worried look over his shoulder at his brother.  Dean had no interest in him.  In fact, he hadn’t moved yet.

 

 

John and Sam were so teasing.  He expected Sam to give him grief about loving Castiel, that was a younger brother’s job.  But he didn’t expect his dad to join in with the physical taunting and light nudges.  And they were insistent about it.  He’d love to play with them again, now that everything was over.  But he didn’t want to at the moment.  He was tired and Castiel was calling out to him.  He just wanted to curl up with Castiel and take a nap.  Something in the back of his mind told him that would amplify this warm feeling, which made Dean all the more determined to get to him.  And now he was leaving him again. 

 

Dean snapped into motion.  He broke into a full run after Castiel, ignoring Gabriel as he went.  Castiel redoubled his efforts to run and could feel a few stray tears streak down his face.  There was an elevator just ahead of him, he could make it.  He hoped he could make it.  Castiel didn’t dare look over his shoulder, he didn’t want to know how close Dean was.

The elevator dinged and its door slid open, letting off a small group of unsuspecting people.

“ _Run!_ ” Castiel screamed.

They looked up in confusion and caught site of Castiel running madly towards them.  One of them had the audacity to hit the ‘close doors’ button.  Another one caught site of Dean rapidly closing in and pushed past the others, who then saw the coming threat.  The woman who had pressed the close button hit it repeatedly, desperate to shield herself.  The doors gave an annoyed chime and began to slide closed.

Castiel pleaded frantically for the elevator to wait just a second longer and dove forward through the doors.  But he wasn’t safe.  Dean had caught his pant leg, slamming him to the floor of the elevator.  The doors bumped into Castiel and Dean, gave another chime and slide back open.  The woman on the elevator screamed and fell back, tucking herself into the far corner of the elevator.

“Dean!  _Dean!_ Stop, it’s me!” Castiel yelled.

Dean growled and shook his head, dragging Castiel closer and tearing his pant leg.  Castiel’s heart thundered in his ears and he frantically kicked at Dean’s face.  He landed one hit square on Dean’s nose, eliciting a sharp yelp.  Castiel scrambled in the elevator as the doors went to close again.  Dean jumped forward and the doors closed on his face.  With another chime, and an indignant noise from Dean, the doors moved open again.

“ _Shit!”_

Castiel ducked under Dean and ran again.  Dean backed up and turned, watching Castiel run away again and stalled.  The woman on the elevator took her chance and ran by with a scream. 

John and Sam came running at Dean and slammed him into the elevator.  The doors slid once again and this time they weren’t interrupted.  Castiel watched in horror as they closed on the three of them and the lights above the door indicated it was going back up.  He hurried back to the elevator and jammed the button over and over.  The elevator beside the one they’d gone up in lit up and opened with no one on board.  Castiel ran in and abused the ‘lobby’ button just the same.  The elevator chimed and took him up.

Once he cleared the top the arena and floor of the lobby, he could already he the screams of hundreds of people in the casino.  He let out a litany of swearing and braced himself for what he was about to see.

The scene unfolding before him was chaos.  People were screaming and running all directions, some throwing things and shoving others to get ahead.  Vases, small statues, and various other décor were all being knocked over and thrown to the ground.  Castiel couldn’t see Dean, Sam and John, but if he had to guess, they were where people were dropping.  He ran towards what looked like the heart of the chaos, slipping on the occasional splatter of blood.  He didn’t see any bodies on the floor, which was of little comfort, but it was of some comfort.

Several people shoved Castiel, they even knocked him down and trampled over him.  Dozens of people stampeded over, accidentally stepping on him, kicking him, or falling on him.  He curled up in a ball and shielded himself as best as he could until it stopped.  And when it did, he looked up to find a path of ruined properties leading straight to the front door of the casino.

“Fuck, _fuck,”_ Castiel hissed.

Getting to his feet was painful and his run was hindered by a limp.  He stopped outside, looking around for another uproar and found a panicked crowd across the street and up a block.  In the opposite direction, he saw stunned valet watching in horror from an open door.  Castiel moved as fast as he could to the valet and snatched the keys from him.

“Wha— Hey!”

“I need this,” Castiel growled.

He grabbed the valet by the shirt and jerked him from the vehicle.  Castiel climbed up into the truck, a newer Colorado, and jammed the keys into the ignition.  The tires spun as he floored it and whipped out of the curved driveway.  He blared the truck’s horn, getting several cars to move thankfully, and slammed the breaks when he caught up with the brawling skinwalkers.

“ _Get in!”_

Sam and John exchanged very brief looks before they jumped into truck bed.  Castiel stomped his foot, spinning the tires again and lunged forward.  He distantly heard Dean’s enraged roar and knew he was giving chase.  He looked in the mirror for confirmation and saw not only Dean gaining, but also the numerous injuries Sam and John had sustained.

John let himself fall, chest heaving with exhaustion.  Sam carefully moved to the tailgate and barked and howled tauntingly.  John shifted, painfully, back into a human and his injuries looked a hundred times worse now.  He grabbed on the side of the bed and lifted himself up, waving at Castiel.  Castiel rolled the window down.

“Don’t lose him!” John shouted over the wind.

“I won’t!”

Honestly, Castiel wondered if he could.  He already knew Dean could run as fast as most highway speed limits.  If they wanted a prayer of Dean _not_ getting on the truck, they’d need a highway or an abandoned road. 

A heavy thud tore Castiel from his thoughts.  He looked up in the mirror and saw Dean at the tailgate, struggling to climb over.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel mumbled.

He jerked the steering wheel, knocking Sam and John over and throwing Dean from the tailgate.  Dean tumbled over the road and was quick to get back on his feet, though he stumbled quite a bit.  The cacophony of car horns wailing at Castiel’s driving and Dean being in the middle of the road was enough to shock him into stillness again.

“Go back!” John yelled.

Castiel slowed enough to make a U-turn without feeling like it was going to roll the truck.  He could hear the sirens of the police coming and knew they all needed to get out fast.  Castiel went straight for Dean, honking the horn and shouting at him; Sam and John joined in.  It took a lot of taunting to pull Dean from his trance again, but when he came out of it, he started after them again.

Castiel whipped the truck again and made for the highway.  Dean kept close and was slowly getting closer, they needed the highway as soon as possible.  It would be dangerous for all of them, but it would also be the safest. 

Two more turns put them on the interstate.  Castiel pressed the pedal into the floor, pushing the truck to go faster.  Dean steadily started falling behind and Castiel was relieved until John’s shouting reminded him they needed to keep him close.  He let off the gas a bit and swerved through traffic, keeping an eye on both the cars ahead of him and Dean behind him.  Most alarming was Dean bounding over the stopping cars to catch them.

Just ahead, Castiel saw a brilliant flash of red and blue.  He swore again, but made no effort to stop.  The police car tore out after him.  Dean saw it only as an obstacle and bounded over it, cracking the back window and shattering the windshield.  The chase ended as soon as it had started, leaving only Dean in pursuit.  Castiel was more the certain the policeman was radioing to others about them.  The interstate exchange was just a few minutes ahead, he hoped they could shake officers with that.  Even just a few.

Castiel glanced back.  All he could see of Dean were his hindquarters, he was close enough to make another leap.  Castiel panicked and floored it again, putting more distance between them and bringing Dean’s full body back into view.

They took the ramp on the highway exchange to start heading north and the number of cars thinned out as Las Vegas fell further away.  Dean hadn’t tired in the slightest, but John and Sam were collapsed in exhaustion.  If Dean managed to get on again, they were screwed.

Castiel’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he was tempted to ignore it.  He checked it anyway and saw Gabriel’s name displayed on the screen, then hit ‘answer’.

“Where the hell are you?” Gabriel barked.

“Heading north on, uh— I-15.”

“You pass 93 yet?”

“No, we just got on.”

“You still got an eye on Dean?”

“He’s literally right behind us,” Castiel answered.

He checked the rearview again just to make sure.

“Good, get on 93 and I’ll catch you soon.”

“What?”

“I got a Lambo and restraints,” Gabriel explained.

“Hurry,” Castiel urged.

“What part of _Lambo_ did you not get?” Gabriel bit, “Just don’t get caught and for the love of God, don’t die.”––

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo i have no concept of time, i really don't mean to take a month at a time... i don't need to either, 90% of this chapter was written today. but i need reminders of how long it's been and notifications of comments do a great job of that. but like i said last chapter! we're at the climax here and gonna start winding down, after the fic ends i'll do a 'sequel' of little timestamps


	24. The Prisoner

Castiel kept looking back to check on Dean.  They’d been going for miles now and, even in this state, Dean had to get tired at some point.  But he was still right on them.  Castiel forced himself to take a deep breath and relax.  He’d been clenching his jaw and tightening his grip on the steering to the point that both his hands and jaw hurt.

He was silently grateful that no police lights appeared behind him and that he had yet to see an officer sitting on the side of the road, waiting for someone to come speeding by.  He’d barely seen any cars at all once he got off the interstate and onto another highway.  It may be dumb luck, but Castiel wasn’t going to question it or brush it off. 

He glanced back yet again.  John and Sam were laying down, John mostly likely asleep or passed out.  Castiel sighed and lifted his gaze to Dean; he was starting to fall behind.  Castiel let off the gas to slow down as well and maintain their distance.  He half expected Dean to pick up again, but he didn’t.  He slowed down more and came to a staggered stop.  Castiel pressed down on the breaks and came to a stop just a short distance ahead.  He twisted around in his seat to get a better look at Dean.  He didn’t look tired, he remained perfectly upright and alert.  He’d just gone into another temporary trance.

“Hey,” Castiel called gently, leaning out of the window, “Do… Do we want to antagonize him again?”

“No,” John groaned, “We’re away from people.  If he’s just gonna stand there, then let him.”

Castiel hummed and nodded.  He watched Dean for another few seconds to see if this trance was going to be as short lived as the others.  With the lack of stimulant now, the trance dragged on.  Castiel chewed his lip before turning the truck off.  They had enough distance that if Dean snapped out of it, he’d have a second or two to turn the truck back on.  Plus, he didn’t even put it in park.  He left it in drive, locking the key in the ignition, and kept his foot on the brake.  Though that wasn’t entirely necessary, since the highway was quite flat.

Another minute or two went by, still Dean didn’t move.  Castiel let his foot off the break and turned around in his seat to sit more comfortably as he watched Dean.  He felt warm tears beginning to prickle in his eyes and rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes, then blinking the tears away.  It didn’t do much to help and now he could feel his throat tightening up.  He shook his head and forced himself to take several deep breaths, reassuring himself that everything was going to be fine.  They just needed to get Dean to calm down, he was probably as scared as Castiel was.  Castiel couldn’t help but scoff at that, he’d been pretty damn scared when Dean had come after him.

He took another deep, slower breath and looked at Dean.  He was still in the same spot, he hadn’t even so much as flicked an ear.  It was actually kind of disturbing.

There was a movement behind him that drew Castiel’s attention.  Two pinpricks of lights appeared on the horizon.  There was a car coming and here he was, stopped in the middle of the highway with three skinwalkers in varied conditions.  Castiel swore as the car came closer at a high speed and fumbled with the keys to the truck.  One quick glance back at the approaching vehicle and Castiel paused, squinting his eyes at its reflection in the mirror.  He wasn’t an expert on cars, but it looked like it might be a Lamborghini.  Castiel gave an exasperated sigh of relief and dropped his head to the steering wheel.  He sat up and turned around as the Lamborghini pulled into the oncoming lane and came to a stop at an angle, the same distance behind Dean as Castiel was in front of him.  Then Castiel’s phone started vibrating again.

“For once, I’m glad to see you,” Castiel said.

“You should always be glad to see me,” Gabriel puffed, “So, uh, what’s going on here?  What do we do?”

“I don’t know.  What did you bring?”

“Heavy duty muzzle and some cuffs and a chain.  Stuff from the arena they use for the more unruly entertainment.”

Castiel closed his eyes.  He didn’t want to use something so crude, but he understood it was better that they did.  Anything less might not hold up.

“You wanna ask Papa Bear there what he wants to do?” Gabriel asked.

“Yeah, one second.”

Castiel lowered his phone and propped himself up to lean out of the window.  Sam had kept his eyes fixed on Dean while John had shifted his attention to the Lamborghini.

“John?”

“What?”  
“Gabriel’s in that car,” Castiel said, “He said he’s got restraints.  What do you want to do?”

John grumbled to himself in thought and looked between Gabriel and Dean.  Dean would most likely snap out of it as soon as any of them moved from their places, probably even as soon as either Gabriel or Castiel clicked their doors open.

“What does he have?” John asked.

“Muzzle and cuffs.”

“Things we need thumbs for,” John complained, “Anything else?”

“A chain.”

“You got him on the phone right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Put him on speaker, I don’t some idiot in the dark here.”

Castiel tapped the little megaphone icon on his phone and held it as close to John as he could without falling out of the window or having to open the door.

“Don’t say anything, just listen,” John ordered, “You and Castiel are going to be the ones to put the muzzle and cuffs on him.  Sam and I will take the chains and wrap him up.  Now, when I say, Sam’s going to run to you, Gabriel, and get the chain.  I’ll keep Dean distracted.  You get the either the cuffs or muzzle to Castiel in the meantime.  We’ll get him chained up and then you two need to move quick and get the muzzle and cuffs on.”

Castiel shivered at the thought.  Even if the managed to chain Dean down, it was still going to be incredibly dangerous to get so close and have to get the restraints on him.  John nodded his head at Castiel, who sat back in the truck and took the phone off speaker.

“Is he insane?” Gabriel asked.

“Do you have a better plan?”

“Yeah, I get out of the car slowly, put the restraints on the ground and get the hell out of Dodge,” Gabriel quipped.

“You’d leave me to do all the dangerous work?”

“Only if you’re stupid enough to.”

“Gabriel—“

“I’ll help, Jesus.  I’m just kidding,” Gabriel groaned, “But you’re gonna owe me, Cassie.  Big time.”

“Whatever you want.”

“You’ll regret that,” Gabriel warned.

Castiel gave an unaffected grunt and set his phone down.  He watched John intently, waiting for his command.  Castiel tensed his hand on the door handle, shifting anxiously.  He saw John’s chest puff up with a deep breath.

“ _Now!”_ John barked.

Dean’s ears perked forward at his outburst and he snapped into motion at the same time as Sam and John.  Sam leapt from the truck and shot past Dean, ducking down as he did to avoid his brother’s bite.  John was two steps behind him, having transformed mid-jump, and slammed his body into Dean’s and knocked him off balance.

Castiel was already running to meet Gabriel.  Sam had the length of chain from him and was running back.  He jerked his head to the side in an effort to throw the end of the chain to John.  He would’ve been successful, had Dean not just hurled John several feet away and caught the end of the chain himself.  Dean pulled the chain taut and jerked on it, pulling Sam off balance and forward.  Sam dropped the chain as quickly as he could before Dean could jerk it again and pull his teeth out.

Sam ran forward and dove low for a bite at Dean’s foreleg.  He teeth made contact and pierced deep, but Dean showed no pain.  Even as he casually ripped his leg from Sam’s jaw and shredded his own skin and muscle.  Dean gave a vicious growl and snapped down at Sam, with the chain still in his mouth, and sank his teeth into the front portion of Sam’s shoulder.  Sam howled in pain as Dean bit down harder and started to crack bones.

John circled around and picked up the end of chain that Sam had dropped.  He kept his momentum, circling around and wrapping the chain around the length of Dean’s body.  He came around in front of Dean, then changed direction.  He backed up, pulling the chain straight back and forcing it to tighten.  Dean’s eyes flicked up in alarm as the chain drew his legs closer together and pulled on his jaw, forcing it open under threat of breaking teeth.  Dean let go of Sam and tucked his head awkwardly to his chest to the chain out of his mouth.

As soon as he did, Sam picked it up and ducked under the taut metal, synching it around Dean once more.  Dean danced around to shimmy out of the chain, but John was faster and ran around Dean again.  This time he jumped over Dean, doubled-back and crawled quickly under him, bring the chain around his middle.

Castiel and Gabriel watched in awe as John expertly moved around Dean like it was a choreographed scene.  He continued to do so until he had next to no length to work with and both he and Sam stood only a few feet from Dean, holding fast to the chain to keep him as immobilized as possible.  Both of them growled loudly through the metal to get their attention and get them moving.

Castiel had the muzzle, the more dangerous job, and elbowed Gabriel to go first.  Gabriel ran forward, dropping to his knees and skidding on them up next to Dean.  With shaking hands, he managed to lock two cuffs on his hind legs.  Enraged, Dean thrashed and shook, loosening the chains a bit as one loop fell away.  Gabriel squawked in fear and scurried back, but Sam pulled his end tighter and picked up the slack.  Gabriel shuddered and shook worse now as he crawled up beside Sam for protection.

He picked up another cuff and went to chain one of Dean’s forelegs.  Seeing what Gabriel was doing, Dean howled and twisted to snap at Gabriel’s neck.  Before Gabriel could even blinked, Sam reacted and moved the chain to catch Dean’s mouth and stop him just inches from Gabriel.  If it wasn’t for the adrenaline right now, Gabriel would’ve passed out at the sight of the razor sharp fangs, barred only by a chain, and the rumbling, hateful sound coming from between them.  Dean gnawed angrily on the chain in a mad attempt to break it, spurring Gabriel to move faster to get away from him sooner.

It took three tries to get the cuff on his foreleg, his hands were shaking so badly now, and two tries for the other leg.  As soon as that one clamped on, Gabriel bolted back as fast as he could.

“Your turn,” Gabriel squeaked as he passed Castiel.

He went for the safety of the car, jumping inside and slamming the door shut, subsequently locking it like it would help him.  Castiel began trembling and shaking just thinking about taking a step forward.  He bit down hard on his lip and willed himself to take a step closer.  His feet felt like lead and his mind rebelled against the dangerous act, but he continued to push himself closer.

Dean howled and roared, trying to twist around and lash at either Sam or John, but found his footing lost on every attempt.  Gabriel had clamped the cuffs themselves correctly, but he hadn’t paid any mind to the chains attached them.  They were completely twisted up, indicating that they hadn’t been put on in the right order.  But that was of benefit to them.  In the right order, the cuffs allowed the prisoner to still walk.  Like this, Dean would be lucky to take half a step.

Dean roared in fury and annoyance at the restraints and attempted to attack once more, but immediately found himself on his side.  Castiel steeled himself and ran the rest of the way, kneeling down in front of Dean.  Dean snapped at his feet, scaring him back and making him fall on his ass.  Castiel righted himself and inched closer, holding the muzzle up and waiting for just the right moment. 

On seeing the muzzle, Dean’s eyes widened in recognition and he let loose what could only be described as an unholy scream.  Castiel dropped the muzzled and screamed back in fear, throwing his hands up to shield himself as fell backwards again.  Dean barked and howled incessantly, louder than he had before and fought harder than he had before.  Sam and John were at their limit for being able to hold Dean still much longer.

John snapped in agitation at Castiel, getting him to at least lower his hands.  Castiel swallowed nervously and moved to his hands and knees, hesitantly reaching for the dropped muzzle.  He picked it and scooted forward, getting closer.  Dean screamed again, scaring Castiel into screwing his eyes shut and flinching away.  Castiel set his jaw and peaked one open at Dean, thrashing madly on the ground now and shaking Sam and John’s stances.  Dean closed his mouth, snarling and growling as he drew in a breath to scream again and Castiel took his hand.

He surged forward and shoved the muzzle onto Dean’s face, his fingers worked deftly and locked it on.  Dean’s eyes widened in clear terror this time.  His vicious barking and screaming turned into the most heart wrenching wails and cries Castiel had ever heard in his entire life.  He scrambled about on the ground, trying to get a paw up to the muzzle and claw at it, but he was unsuccessful.

Sam and John relaxed and let go of the chain.  It fell to the ground, giving Dean an opportunity to loosen it if he tried, if he even noticed.  Sam and John gave each other knowing looks and picked up the ends again.  Not to hold them taunt, but to move to tie them into a sort of knot.  They wrapped the ends around themselves and gave them a tug to make sure it was synched as far as it was going to go before they started a slow pace towards the truck.

Dean’s cries and yowling increased; Castiel didn’t think it was possible they could get anymore pitiful and heart-wrenching, but he was wrongs.  These sounds would haunt his dreams now. 

Sam and John dragged a panicked and crying Dean across the asphalt to the truck.  With him immobilized and now out of his mind, more than before, with fear, Castiel wasn’t afraid to come closer and help them lift Dean into the truck bed.  Mostly, he just made sure Dean didn’t hit his head.  He still thrashed about with all his strength, but the limited range of movement put Castiel at ease.  He even dared to climb into the bed and crawl up to Dean’s face.

Castiel put a hand to the side of Dean’s face, desperately hoping it might do something to ease either of their fears.  Dean stilled for a moment, staring at Castiel with black eyes and breathing rapidly.  Castiel was foolish enough to think he’d calmed Dean down as he started thrashing and yowling again.  Still feeling brave for now, Castiel placed both his hands on Dean’s face and lowered his head.

“It’s going to be alright, Dean,” Castiel murmured.

He said it for both of them, but Dean probably couldn’t hear him over his own terrified noises.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

He gave Dean a chaste kiss between the eyes and crawled over the side of the truck bed.  Sam transformed back and followed Castiel into the truck cab while John remained in the bed with Dean.  Castiel started the truck and paused when he saw Gabriel’s car moving closer.         Gabriel pulled up close to him and rolled down his window.

“I’m gonna guess if I ask what the plan is, you’re gonna say you don’t know,” Gabriel ventured.

“You would be right,” Castiel admitted.

He looked to Sam for any suggestions, but all Sam did was shrug his shoulders.  Castiel sighed in defeat and rubbed his hands over his face.  If John was telling the truth, that every story about insane skinwalkers ended with them being killed, they’d need a miracle from God.  Castiel’s flew open with a sudden idea then.

“Gabriel, you said Kali was a demigod, didn’t you?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Would she be able to do anything?”

“I dunno, that’s a good question,” Gabriel mused, “Can’t hurt to try.  Where do you plan on goin’?”

“Just back to my house.”

“Alright, I’ll call her and ask if she can help.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re gonna owe her way more than you owe me though,” Gabriel warned.

“I don’t doubt that in the slightest.”

Gabriel waved at him as he rolled up the window and turned his car around, heading back to Vegas.  Castiel watched him go, wondering if Gabriel was going to return the car or simply go to the airport. 

He thought about what he should do with the truck.  The owner had to have reported it stolen, or the valet.  If they were pulled over for any reason, Castiel would be arrested for theft.  Though that would be the least of his worries.  Explaining the two dire wolves in the truck bed, one wrapped in chains and hysterical, that would be at the top of his worries.

Castiel shook his head.  He would just drive responsibly and do nothing to arouse suspicion.  The height of the truck and depth of the bed would keep Dean hidden well enough; John too if he would lay down.  The only problem then would be getting gas and stopping at any traffic lights where people would hear Dean’s wailing.

“One thing at a time,” Castiel muttered.

“Hm?” Sam hummed.

“Nothing, just talking to myself.”

Castiel started off, picking up speed and setting the cruise control once he reached the speed limit.  He settled back in the seat, dropping his hands down the bottom of the steering wheel and held on just enough that his hands would drop in his lap.

Neither he or Sam said anything during the drive.  Sam’s eyes were fixed on the rearview mirror, on Dean and John.  Every now and then, Castiel looked up at the mirror as well.  John remained sitting upright, looking down at Dean and unmoving.  Dean had calmed down some time ago and laid perfectly still.  Castiel sighed lowly and rubbed the side of his face, then propped his elbow on the edge of the window. 

Two and a half hours later, the truck’s dashboard chimed with a low gas warning.  Simultaneously, Sam and Castiel looked at each other in slight concern.  As long as Dean would stay quiet, it would be fine.  Castiel took the next exit into a town called Pioche and followed the signs off the exit ramp to the nearest gas station.  It was a fairly big gas station, having sixteen pumps, but only one other patron.  Castiel pulled up to the pump furthest from that person.

As the truck filled up, Castiel leaned over the edge of the bed and watched Dean.  He stared at the end of the bed against the cabin with a thousand yard stare.  John gave a soft huff and stuff up a little bit, but not enough to be fully visible to passerbys. 

“Do you want to switch?” Sam called out.

John groaned, but nodded.  They didn’t switch right then, not with John being a giant dire wolf and Sam currently missing clothes.  The gas pump clicked off and Castiel got back in the truck, going straight for the highway again.  After a few minutes, they cleared the city and were alone on the road.  Castiel slowed down to a stop, giving Sam and John a chance to switch.  John climbed in the cabin and settled against the door, crossing his arms and staring straight ahead of them as Castiel drove off.

They didn’t stop again until Dubois, Idaho.  By that point, Castiel’s stomach was growling loudly.  They still couldn’t stop anywhere other than the necessary gas station, so Castiel loaded up on snacks.  He even bought nearly a dozen of the gas station hot dogs, mostly for Sam and John, thinking they’d want something a little more filling.  He went back to the truck and John reluctantly took a few, Sam gratefully took several of the hot dogs.  Castiel ran his eyes over Dean’s body, noting he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days.  He went to lean over and offer some of the over cooked meat down to Dean, but stopped halfway.  Dean couldn’t eat right now.

Sam gave a look that said he appreciated the thought.  Castiel got back in the driver seat, wincing at his sore lower back and butt muscles.  They only had about another four and half hours to go before they were back to Castiel’s house.  He already couldn’t wait to be home and lay down and for things to go back to normal.  Hopefully.  If Kali could do anything to help.

An hour dragged by and Castiel’s phone buzzed with a text, the display reading Gabriel’s name.  Castiel picked up his phone, earning a dirty look from John, but he ignored it.

_‘Kali says she doesn’t know how she can help.  But she can come try.’_

That wasn’t what Castiel was hoping for, but it was better than nothing.

 _‘That would be greatly appreciated,’_ Castiel replied.

A few more minutes went by before he got another message, this one reading from an unknown number.

_‘Hello, Castiel.  This is Kali.  I assume you’d like me there as soon as possible?’_

_‘Yes, please.’_

_‘I’ll take the next available flight to Montana.  Will you pick me up?’_

_‘Of course.’_

_‘Excellent.  Barring any delays, the airline says the plane will be landing at midnight.’_

_‘Thank you.  Text me when you land, the airport isn’t too far.  You’re flying into Missoula, right?’_

_‘Yes, Gabriel has mentioned several times you live there.’_

Castiel didn’t reply after that.  He tossed his phone into the cup holder and shifted around to try to get more comfortable.  He glanced at John and found him sleeping, slumped against the door.  Castiel scowled, thinking he was lucky for being able to sleep.  In the back, Sam was laying beside Dean, but still awake.

Finally, he drove by a sign displaying Missoula’s name.  Castiel could almost cry with relief, but he wasn’t home yet.  He needed to get to the outskirts on the other side of town to be home.  Anxiously, Castiel pressed on the gas just a bit harder.  He was still concerned about being pulled over, but he couldn’t stand sitting in this truck for another minute anymore. 

He reached the turn off for his driveway and took the turn a bit harder than he’d meant to.  John snorted and woke up, Sam fell over Dean and fumbled to his feet, and, as far as Castiel could tell, Dean didn’t react at all.  Thank god for small mercies.  Castiel stopped right in front of the house, threw the truck in park and kicked the door open.  He jumped down and stretched his arms up to the sky with a groan.  The Colorado was far more comfortable than his own old pickup truck, but no car was comfortable after a thousand mile road trip.  Especially when round trip, in four days, was over two thousand miles.

Castiel’s face blanched.  He was only given four days off and he had to be at work tomorrow, or else lose his job.  He gave a frustrated groan; he couldn’t leave the situation like this to go to work, but he couldn’t lose his job either.  Idly, Castiel thought he could just get another job.  Perhaps one with better pay.  But he liked working at the Roadhouse.

One thing at a time, he reminded himself.  First they needed to get Dean out of the truck and more comfortably bound, if it was possible.  Sam and John, both in human form, lowered the tailgate and took hold of the chain and pulled Dean back.  He still hadn’t snapped out of his trance and it was beginning to worry them, though none of them said anything. 

“Where…?” Sam started.

He looked to Castiel for an answer.

“In the backyard,” John grunted.

Sam pursed his lips and looked to Castiel again.

“I trust him enough to be in the house,” Castiel said.

“Trust ain’t the problem,” John grunted, “If he wakes up and starts wailing like a banshee again, what’re you gonna do?  How’re you gonna get any sleep?”

“I…”

John had a point, but still.  He didn’t want Dean chained in the backyard like a vicious guard dog.

“The garage, at least,” Castiel offered.

“Fine.”

Castiel helped them to carry Dean, even starved, Dean still weighed considerable amount.  It took them several minutes to move him to the garage.  Castiel let go when they reached the garage door and went inside the house to open it.  He had a garage door opener, but it was in his truck.  He went through the house to the door leading to the garage and clicked the button.  The door shuddered and groaned, rising up slowly.  As soon as it was high enough for John and Sam to duck under, they did.  Castiel grabbed an old blanket off the shelf, one he used to cover the edges of his truck bed when moving things, and laid it out on the floor.

John and Sam set Dean down gently and stepped back.  Just as they did, Dean attempted to get up, having snapped out of his trance again.  However, the twisted chains of the cuffs didn’t allow him to do much more than roll halfway onto his belly.  Still, he flattened his ears and growled menacingly at them, narrowing his blackened eyes.

John brushed past Castiel roughly, he couldn’t stand it anymore.  Sam briskly followed after and Castiel shut the door behind them, closing the garage door as well, and leaving Dean in the dark.  The garage did a decent job of muting Dean’s angry barking and snarling.  It sounded far away enough that it could be easily ignored if Castiel started doing something to distract his mind. 

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?”

“What’re you gonna do about the truck?” Sam asked.

“I’m not sure.  I was planning on leaving it somewhere and simply reporting it abandoned so the owner could get it back.”

“Before you do that, can I borrow it?”

“What for?”

“I want to go see Jess and they might let her of the hospital,” Sam answered, “…Can I borrow some clothes too?”

“Of course, if you can find anything that fits.”

Sam nodded in thanks and disappeared down the hall.  It took several long minutes before Sam came back, neither the shirt nor pants being long enough for him.  Castiel tossed him the keys as he walked by, muttering he’d be back later; Castiel told him to take his time.  Another minute passed and John excused himself to go for a run, promising to back in a couple hours.  Admittedly, Castiel was glad he left.  He’d hadn’t been alone with John for much time, but in the time he had been alone with him, he didn’t like it.

Castiel checked the time, he still had a while before he had to leave to pick up Kali.  But he’d forgotten to tell either John or Sam he needed to pick her up.  Well, John had promised only a couple hours, he should be back right around when Castiel needed to leave.  Castiel took a deep breath and went to the garage door.

He pushed the door open, wincing at the sudden increase of volume of Dean’s onslaught of barking.  Castiel flicked the light on and took a few steps closer, but still kept his distance.  He took a seat on the steps and waited for Dean to quiet down and fall back into a trance.  Or at least take a second to breath.  Dean’s barking dissolved into growling, giving Castiel an opportunity to speak.

“Are you hungry?”

It was a stupid question, he knew it was.  One of Dean’s ears perked to the side in a slightly curious motion.  Castiel stood up and went back to the kitchen.  There was a good amount of food that had gone bad, but it had been close to its expiration dates before he’d left.  Castiel picked up a bag of jerky, one Dean had picked out the last time they’d gone shopping.  It was nowhere near enough to sate Dean’s appetite, but at least it would be something and it would make Castiel feel better.

He went back to the garage and walked up to Dean.  He opened the bag and dumped the contents on the blanket in front of Dean.  He fidgeted nervously, debating how idiotic this idea was.  He went through with it anyway.  With trembling fingers, he reached behind Dean’s head for the clasps on the muzzle.  He undid them and pulled the muzzle off quickly, allowing Dean to bark and growl at full volume and fury again.  Castiel fell back and covered his ears, scooting back a bit just in case.  Dean didn’t stop barking, he didn’t even look at the food on the floor.  Castiel mentally berated himself for thinking he could help Dean in anyway.  He got up and left, shutting the door tightly behind himself, but leaving the light on.

Castiel dragged himself to the living room and flopped down on his stomach on the couch.  He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and awkwardly pulled it over himself, bundling it near his head to drown out what he could still hear of Dean.  He didn’t realize how tired he was, he was asleep the instant he’d stopped moving.  But he’d hadn’t sleep much, if at all, the past few days, so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise.

He slept restfully, but he wouldn’t say it was peaceful.  Images of Dean attacking him at the elevator flitted behind his eyelids every now and then, sometimes alternating with the bloodied scenes he’d created.

Waking up sometime later was actually a relief.  Castiel checked his phone to make sure he hadn’t overslept.  He still about ten minutes before he needed to leave to pick up Kali.  He groaned and twisted over, contemplating whether or not he wanted to sleep for a few more minutes.  But he decided against it, he needed to get a hold of Sam and ask him to bring the truck back.  Rather than call Sam, he decided to text him.  He would sound too tired on the phone.  He just hoped Sam had his phone on him again.

_‘Sam, if you can, will you please bring the truck back?  I need it to pick up Kali.’_

Castiel hadn’t even set his phone down before it buzzed.  He quietly thanked god Sam had his phone, assuming it was from him.

_‘I dropped it off like twenty minutes ago, you were passed out.  Who’s Kali?’_

_‘She’s Gabriel’s girlfriend who happens to be a demigod.’_

_‘She’s coming here?’_

‘ _Yes, she might be able to help Dean.’_

_‘Does she need our help with anything?  Should I be there?’_

_‘I don’t know if she’ll need help, it’s up to you if you want to come back.  I understand staying with Jess is very important, I can let you know if Kali needs you.  How is Jess, by the way?’_

Castiel sat up and went looking for the keys.  He found them sitting on the counter by the stove and picked them up.

_‘She’s doing alright.  Definitely feeling and looking better than last time I saw her, but it’s still a long way to go.’_

_‘As long as she’s making progress.  Tell her I said hello.’_

_‘I will.’_

Castiel stopped by the garage door.  He could still hear Dean barking inside, he hadn’t expected that to change.  But there was a nagging curiosity as to whether or not Dean had eaten the food.  Castiel chewed his lip and cracked the door open enough to poke his head inside.  The food was untouched.

Castiel dropped his head and shut the door, quieting the volume of Dean’s incessant noise.  He tried not to let it bother him, he really did.  It was something minor.  But on top of everything else, it was crushing him.  Kali had to be able to do something for Dean, anything.  If she couldn’t, Castiel didn’t know what he’d do.  And he tried not to think about it as he drove to the airport.

Kali texted him just he reached the white zone, she’d just landed and they were still taxi-ing.  Castiel tipped his head back in tired annoyance.  He thought about staying there, despite the ten minute time limit.  It was late at night and the airport wasn’t horribly busy.  But the site of a police officer just a few cars ahead of him had him rethinking the decision.  Castiel pulled away from the curb and drove down to the cell phone lot and waited for another text from her.

Fifteen minutes later, she texted that she had gotten off the plane and would be in the white zone shortly.  Castiel circled back around, taking his previous spot and waited for her.  A few minutes went by before he saw her walking down the side walk, halfheartedly checking the cars as she went by.  He got out of the truck and called after her, then going to help her with her baggage.  He would’ve thought she’d only bring a carry on, not two large luggage bags.  Kali had sensed his thought and told him it wasn’t just clothes in there.  She’d brought various items for different spells and rituals, since she wasn’t sure what to expect.  A number of them had been confiscated at the TSA, but most of the lost items should be an easy find if she ended up needing them.

The drive home was silent, Kali only made one comment about the truck being well kept and looking nice.  Begrudgingly, Castiel admitted it wasn’t his. 

When they got back, Castiel unloaded her baggage and carried it behind her and she walked ahead.  She waited with a slightly impatient look for Castiel to unlock the front door and he wondered if she really was impatient or if she just had that kind of face.  He’d only spoken to her a few times, but he couldn’t remember what expression she’d had.  From the way Gabriel talked about her, this was probably just her face.

Castiel pushed the door open and allowed Kali to walk in first.

“Who is the naked man in your living room?” Kali asked.

“John, Dean’s father,” Castiel answered.

“Mmhmm.  Why is he naked?”

“He doesn’t own clothes,” Castiel replied casually.

“…Naturally,” Kali replied tightly, “Alright then, where is Dean?”

Castiel nodded towards the garage, leading both Kali and John to the garage.  He twisted the handle and bumped the door open with his hip, barely wincing at the increase in volume as he moved the baggage down the step.

“This is absolutely awful,” Kali spoke loudly, “How long has he been doing this?”

“Non-stop?  For a few hours,” Castiel sighed, “Off and on since we found him.”

“Can we put a muzzle on him?”

“Why’s his muzzle off?” John shot.

Castiel opened his mouth to answer and stalled as he glanced down and saw the food now gone.  A smile tugged at Castiel’s face and he tried to hide it as he knelt down and picked up the muzzle.  At the sight of it in Castiel’s hands and coming for his face again, Dean screamed and attempted to scramble back.

“Oh my god, that is positively _ungodly_!” Kali complained.

Castiel got the muzzle on with much more ease this time, having done it before and having something of a confidence boost knowing Dean had eaten the offered food while he was gone.  Dean’s howling and barking was muffled, leaving him to mostly angry growling.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with that for more than thirty seconds,” Kali sighed, “Should be used for interrogations…”

John glowered at Kali, but said nothing.  He leaned against the wall and folded his arms as he watched her kneel down and open one bag of luggage.  She took out a few small things to start with; a pin, a small vial and a few herbs.  She used the pin to prick just below his ear, which set him off further and he started thrashing again.  Castiel and John did their best to hold him still long enough for her to pinch the flesh and let his blood into the vial.  She took little pinches from each of the herbs and added them to the vial, muttering incoherent words softly to it.

“This may take a while,” Kali warned, “You don’t have to be here, I will call you if I need you.”

Which was code for ‘leave’.  Castiel stepped out of the garage, followed by John a minute later.  John settled himself on the floor, beside the door.  Castiel didn’t question him, he just went into the kitchen to make himself some food in hopes of staying awake.  He settled for just a sandwich and some chips, he didn’t have the energy for anything else.

“If you’re hungry, you can help yourself to anything in the kitchen,” Castiel offered.

John only grunted in response.  If he didn’t want to eat, that was fine.  It meant Castiel would have food later.  Castiel took a seat at the table and ate slowly, trying to listen for anything coming from the garage other than muffled barks. 

After he finished his food, Castiel went back to the door and nudged it open.  John was right above him, both of them poking their heads in.  Kali had set up several things, namely candles on ornate pedestals, sigils painted on the floor around Dean and various objects sitting on top of each sigil.  Currently, she was sitting cross legged in front of Dean, hands resting on her knees with her palms up and muttering the same language as before.  Castiel narrowed his eyes in thought, trying to place it.  Before he could, Kali stopped abruptly and glared over her shoulder at them.

“I haven’t called you,” Kali stated.

“Uh, sorry, I— we just…” Castiel trailed off.

She wasn’t looking for excuses, she just wanted them to back up and shut the door.  Castiel did just that and took a seat on the opposite side of the door as John.  He fidgeted with his fingers for a while, occasionally glancing at John out of the corner of his eye.  John kept pressed against the door, doing his best to listen through the material.  It occurred to Castiel then that John hadn’t asked anything about what was going on.

“So, do you just trust her or…?” Castiel started.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t ask who she was or what she was doing.”

“I stopped by Sam’s to check on him and Jess, he already told me.”

Castiel nodded in acknowledgement.  There was no more conversation following that.  It began to be a challenge to stay awake by doing nothing and Castiel lost that challenge a half hour later. 

He woke up briefly when the garage door clicked open, but Kali wasn’t speaking to him.  She was asking John something, but what it was, Castiel didn’t know.  It didn’t pertain to him, so he didn’t pay attention and went back to sleep.  He woke up once more a few hours later, just as dawn was starting to break.  John was no longer beside him and he couldn’t hear any noise coming from within the garage.  Castiel’s heart thundered in his chest and he jumped to his feet gracelessly and threw the garage door open.

He was met with an exasperated sigh from Kali.  She turned and stood up, dusting the dirt from her dress and her hands.  She fixed him with tired annoyance and Castiel opened his mouth to apologize, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“You’ve only come at a convenient time,” Kali yawned, “I’ve done the best I can, but it will not be enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“All I could do is quiet his mind and spirit for a time.  I don’t know for how long, but it will be a reprieve for him and any unfortunate soul subjected to his hellish barking…”

“So what do we do?  Do you know anyone else who can help?”

“I spoke with John for a bit last night to get a bit more insight on this— Hysteria.  Honestly, that was probably the only reason I was successful as I was,” Kali admitted, “As for who can help…  From what John has explained, it sounds as though you’ll need a spirit of the healing water.”

“The healing water…?  Oh, right.”

“Yes, however, neither John or myself know how you might go about drawing a spirit out.  They are your best bet, so I wish you luck with that,” Kali said, “His soul is broken and charred beyond recognition.”

Kali began cleaning up her materials.  She left the sigils painted on the floor, not even making an effort to scuff them away.  She zipped up the bags and looked to Castiel expectantly.  It took him a moment to realize she was expecting help again, but he was quick to do so.

The drive back to the airport was just as quiet and uncomfortable as before.  He thanked her several times as she got out and he helped her to the flight tickets desk.  The gratitude pleased her; the tiny smile on her face was the only indicator she was even listening.  As he went to leave, she reminded him to remember how she’d helped.  Gabriel had said he was going to owe her, but coming from her, it sounded more daunting than he’d anticipated.

He went straight home then to take a shower and get ready for work.  He was seriously considering calling out now and giving up his job, he wanted to stay here and watch Dean.  But he shook his head and told himself to be a little more practical.  Last night, he’d been telling himself he could just get another job.  But since he’d gotten some rest and could think better, he remembered he couldn’t ‘just get another job’.  It had taken several weeks for him to even get the job at the Roadhouse from the time he’d applied.  Castiel grumbled to himself, praying that business would be slow enough for Ellen to send him home early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter so fast say whaaaaat  
> actually it's partly because the last chapter was going to be much longer but i broke it off early and used it for this chapter c: but hey, it makes up for taking a month between updates


	25. Sacrifice

Unfortunately for Castiel, work wasn’t slow enough for him to be sent home early.  But it wasn’t busy enough to distract his thoughts in the slightest.  As soon as his shift was over, he made a beeline for the truck and didn’t even bother to say good bye.   Jo and Ash had asked about the truck when they’d seen it and lied smoothly, saying it was just a rental.  He still needed to ditch the stolen truck; the sooner the better.  He just needed to get something to replace it, he’d all but given up on the thought of retrieving his own truck from Las Vegas.

“…the Impala,” Castiel blurted.

Technically, he still owed seven hundred dollars on it, but Bobby would let him take it home.  He could’ve taken it home sooner, but there hadn’t been a good time to do so.  His next day off, the day after tomorrow, he’d pick up the Impala and ditch the Colorado.

When Castiel got home, John was nowhere in sight.  He tossed his coat and keys on the counter and went straight to the garage.  He flicked on the lights and Dean was simply laying on the ground with his eyes half open like he was falling asleep.  He glanced up at Castiel and gave a lazy growl, seeming to become more worn out then.  That must be Kali’s spell at work to put his mind to peace.

Castiel walked over to him and he tried to growl more fiercely, though it only came out more sleepy sounding.  He kneeled down beside Dean and placed his hand on the side of his face.  Dean grumbled in protest, but did nothing more than look away.  Castiel trailed his hand down Dean’s neck, shoulder and leg, down to his paw and idly traced little circles over it.  Dean huffed and jerked his leg back.

Castiel let his hand fall away and sat down.  For a moment, he contemplated removing all Dean’s restraints.  Kali’s spell was working to keep him calm.  But she had said she wasn’t sure how long it would last.  Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to remove them…entirely.  At the very least, Dean could do without the length of chain wrapped around his body and the shackles could be repositioned to not be so twisted and tangled.  Castiel tugged at different parts of the chain, in search of one end and once he found it, he carefully worked it around Dean to remove it.  He left it in a heap just beside Dean and set to unlocking the shackles; all the while Dean watched him with guarded curiosity.

He removed the shackles altogether and played with the smaller chains to straighten them out, then relocked them around Dean’s ankles.  Dean gave an annoyed sigh and turned his head away.  Castiel decided to give him a little more mercy and removed his muzzled once more and tossed it over his shoulder.  Dean fixed him with another guarded stare.

“I’m not up to anything, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Castiel said.

Dean’s expression remained unchanged.

Castiel sighed and propped his head on one hand on his knee and used the other to smooth out Dean’s ruffled and knotted fur.  Dean squirmed and grumbled under the touch.  He wasn’t sure if Dean was complaining at the knots being picked and pulled or if he simply wanted Castiel to not touch him.  In his right state of mind, it would be the former, Castiel was sure of that.  But as he was, it was probably the latter. 

He removed his hand and studied Dean for a minute longer before sighing and getting up.  He went to the kitchen and fixed himself a small dinner, reminding himself he needed to go grocery shopping.  Half way through eating, Castiel decided he wasn’t hungry anymore.  Against his better thoughts, he brought the remaining food back to the garage and set it in front Dean.  He didn’t show any interest in it, not even so much as a curious sniff.  He just stared at Castiel with low, lazy grumblings.  Castiel pursed his lips and nodded to himself, retreating back into the house.

He took a quick shower and crawled into bed.  He laid there awake for a while, thinking about what Kali had said.  They needed to find a way to draw a spirit out of the healing water.  The only ideas Castiel had were spawned from movies and TV shows, which meant either performing some kind of séance or desecrating its home.  Neither of those were a good idea.  Castiel rolled over on his side and kept trying to think of something that could work, but he fell asleep without coming up with anything.

The next morning, he checked on Dean before going to work.  Some of the food had been eaten, but not much.  Dean laid on the floor, staring at the wall calmly, in another one of his trances.  Castiel moved carefully and quietly to take the plate back.  He scraped the food into the garbage and set the plate in the sink, then left for work.

The day dragged on just as slowly as yesterday.  The only good thing to happen was a text from Sam, telling Castiel to hold onto the truck for just one more day.  They were going to go down the cave and try to see if they could heal Dean; the truck would make it easier to move him. 

The end of work finally came and Castiel made a beeline for his house.  Sam and John were already waiting for him inside the house.  Dean tried to fight and resist being touched, but Kali’s spell held fast.  At best, he managed one good kick and a snarl.  John glared at Castiel for the change in his restraints and taking the muzzle off yet again, but he said nothing about it as they laid Dean in the truck bed.  John opted for staying in the bed while Sam hopped in the cab with Castiel.

Castiel drove around the house to the hill that led down to the canyon floor.  It hadn’t been so bad going down when he was walking or riding on Dean’s back, but in the truck, the hill seemed much steeper. 

“So…” Castiel broke the silence, “Do you and John know what to do?”

“Nope,” Sam sighed, “We’re just going to hope for the best.”

“Really?”

“We have nothing else to go with.”

“You don’t have any legends or stories about getting a spirit’s attention?”

“There’s a few, but they involve sacrifice and that’s not going to happen,” Sam answered, “Plus, those were always for things like better weather or protection.”

“Never healing?”

“Not unless it was a plague.”

Castiel slumped in his seat as silence settled over them again.  Suddenly, their efforts began to feel as if they were in vain.  They said nothing more as they drove, even as the truck jumped and jarred on the rough ground.  It felt like it was taking longer to get there than when Castiel had gone to find Dean.  But even when they finally did get there, Castiel felt no relief.

John and Sam moved Dean again, this time allowing him to walk on his own, now that the cuffs allowed him to.  Both of them dropped to all fours as wolves and nudged Dean to make him move.  He grumbled and moved to lay down.  John flattened his ears and barked at growled at him, in hopes of antagonizing him.  But again, Kali’s spell was holding fast.  Dean barely reacted to John’s behavior.  Sam joined in and nipped at him a few times, at least getting Dean to his feet again.  John nipped at his flanks and trotted ahead.

Dean lowered his head with a growl and lumbered forward.  John ducked around the fur spanning over the entrance of the cave and Dean opted for taking the edge of it in his mouth and tearing it down.  Sam flattened his ears and strode in, making sure to bark gruffly at Dean.  Castiel waited a second longer before following in after them.

Getting Dean to crawl into the small tunnel that connected to the grotto proved to be a challenge.  Sam was on his belly in the tunnel, barking back at Dean, while John butted his head against Dean.  Doing so was keeping Dean’s attention on John.  Castiel dared to help then; he kneeled down and placed his hands on Dean’s hips, giving him a good shove forward.  Dean’s eyes widened briefly, then narrowed as he turned with a vicious snarl.  He went to raise a paw to strike at Castiel, but stumbled as the chains pulled taut.  Dean then resigned himself to the ground with a huff and a glare.

Castiel heard Sam groan and shuffle backwards out of the tunnel.  They spent several minutes trying to get Dean up, but he’d gone into another trance.  They were getting nowhere fast and the darkening sky outside was proof of that.  Castiel settled down on the floor and boredly poked at the cool bits of charcoal from past fires.  Occasionally, he glanced up when either John or Sam tried to rouse Dean.  He made a few efforts himself, but they were forced to wait.

Thirty minutes later, Dean snapped out of it and was irritated enough to get to his feet again.  Sam danced around him, drawing his attention back to the tunnel.  John had learned his mistake and did nothing this time.  Another minute later, Dean was lowering himself and crawling in after Sam.  John gave Castiel a look before following after him; Castiel wasn’t sure if the look was meant to tell him not to follow or not.  Either way, he got down on his hands and knees to crawl after them.

Evidently, the look was to tell him not to.  John grumbled over his shoulder at Castiel.  Castiel ducked his head in apology, but made no effort to turn back.  Sam trotted across the grotto, splashing the water as he went to the other side.  John squeezed by Dean and came to stand at the water’s edge.  Dean stopped when he saw the water and actually took a cautious step back and whacking Castiel’s face with his tail.  Castiel scrambled out from behind him as he crouched growled with growing intensity.  Castiel put some distance between himself and Dean, fearing that Kali’s spell was beginning to wear already. 

Sam and John snapped at him from where they stood.  Dean started to turn back to the tunnel and John darted forward, shoving himself between Dean and the exit.  Dean stumbled back and tripped over the chains, falling hard on his side.  John took up a part of the chains in his mouth and stepped around Dean, effectively turning him.  Sam barked in what sounded like objection and took a step closer.  John snapped through the mouthful of metal and Sam stopped, two paws in the water.

Dean squirmed in a weak effort to shake the restraints from John’s mouth as he dragged him over the worn stones to the water.  He struggled harder the closer they came, landing one good slash across John’s muzzle.  But it wasn’t enough to make him stop.  Sam came over to help and they both pulled Dean down into the water.

When he paw touched the cool liquid, Dean gave a shrill yelp like he’d been burned.  It startled all three of them and Sam looked to John with concern.  John set himself and pulled Dean farther in; Dean yowled louder, filling the grotto with deafening cries as the water rose up around his body.  Dean suddenly started thrashing as hard and violently as he had before Kali had subdued him, knocking John and Sam back as he flailed in an effort to get up and out.  But he was too distressed, and still restrained, to get up.  He thrashed in the water, splashing John and Sam as they backed up.  Several times his head went under water and he started coughing and hacking; that was no surprise. 

What was a surprise was the black bile he began coughing up.

He choked on the black substance as it spilled from his mouth, between his teeth and into the crystal clear water.  The hackles on John’s neck rose as he took a nervous step back while Sam danced in place in anxiousness.  Dean snarled and drew in raspy breaths between coughs as his body began to tremble with the effort.  He collapsed into the stream, still hacking black bile and now sputtering water as it flowed over his mouth.

Castiel started forward to help him, but John gave a vicious bark that froze Castiel in his place.  Likewise, Sam went to help as well, but John snapped at his feet to stop him.  Dean trembled violently as he tried to stand, but the last of his strength left him that moment.  All the fight went out from him as his body went limp with unconsciousness.  Castiel stared slack-jawed at Dean in the water and John growling lowly at Sam to keep him back.

A chilling breeze swept through the grotto, brushing by Castiel’s pants and billowing up his shirt.  He shivered and pinned his shirt down as the wind blew over the water, making little splashes as it danced past Dean.  It ruffled John and Sam’s fur, sending shivers through both of their bodies.  The wind retreated from them and breezed back over the water, swirling around Dean and upsetting the small ripples around him.  Dean rolled to his side, promptly causing whatever was disrupting the water to shift.  Castiel moved closer, this time without John’s objection, and squinted in the dim light.  The way the water moved around the unseen force was like something was standing in it.

Castiel could see Dean’s shoulder being prodded, then the thing turned and walked back to Sam and John.  Sam glanced anxiously between John and what Castiel could only assume was a spirit.  Evidently, drawing it out had been perfectly easy.  Now they only needed to convince it to help Dean.  Castiel couldn’t tell if that was going well or not, but judging by the growing distress on Sam’s face and the anger setting into John’s, it must not be going well.

Castiel swallowed nervously and took a few steps closer.  John’s eyes darted over to Castiel as the spirit in the water turned.  John grumbled lowly, just barely audible, but stopped when the spirit moved away from him and towards Castiel.  The breeze circled around him more gently than before and the spirit stopped in front of him.  He wasn’t sure where to look, there was no indication where it was exactly or what it was doing.  He looked to Sam and John for help, but John only glowered back while Sam maintained his concerned expression.  The wind blew up his clothes and the spirit retreated once more to Dean’s side.

After a minute it turned back to John.  Sam glanced between John and the spirit, then suddenly started in alarm.  He barked and whined, quickly shifting his attention between John, the spirit and Dean.  Whatever it was, Castiel felt a pit in his stomach.  John snapped at Sam, loud enough to fill the grotto, and Sam cowered.  Not so much in fear as pleading. 

The spirit moved around Dean to rearrange the rocks to bring his head up from the water.  He hacked up a lungful of water, but otherwise didn’t move.  The spirit came back to John, wind swirling all around him and silencing Sam’s whimpering. 

The water around Dean became disrupted again.  It became choppy and decorated itself with little whitecaps; the wind flicking up a small amount of mist.  The wind flushed down and outwards, spraying a few drops at Castiel’s face as the force made him take a step back. 

The grotto fell dead silent then, not even the stream making a sound.  Everything around him had darkened, limiting his sight to, at best, shapes.  He wanted to move forward to see what was going on, but was afraid of making a single noise.  Through the darkness, he saw John laying down quietly.

A faint, small silver-blue light caught Castiel’s attention.  It emanated from John’s body, seeping out from beneath his fur and flowing onto the ground.  Castiel stumbled forward, drawn by its ethereal glow, and accidentally kicked a rock.  The noise of the tumbling stone startled the light and sent it curling away.  Castiel was met with a harsh gust of wind, as if being chastised for scarring whatever it was. 

After a tense moment, the wispy light slithered back and crawled over the ground slowly and gracefully.  It moved even more gracefully once it reached the water, gliding effortlessly over to Dean and sweeping up over him.  The light settled down on him and faded as it sank in.  The darkness returned as the light vanished, but eased quickly.

Dean made a pinch face and an effort to sit up, which resulted in a slip.  He fell back in the water and whimpered lowly before successfully sitting up.

Castiel stalled for a good few minutes, as did Sam.  Sam was the first to move, taking a cautious step forward.  Dean paid him no mind, he was in yet another trance.  But something seemed different about it this time.  He seemed relaxed and distant.  Sam intentionally kicked a few rocks to let Dean know he was approaching, he didn’t want to risk startling him into attacking. 

It wasn’t until Sam stepped into the water that Dean did anything.  Even then, all he did was look at Sam with mild curiosity.  Sam paused for a second, then moved with more confidence.  He nudged his head against Dean’s shoulder and Dean simply tilted his head.  Sam flattened his ears and butted his head against him a little rougher.  Dean shifted and stood up, taking a step away from Sam and staring at him as if he didn’t understand what Dean was doing.  Sam glanced to Castiel for help and pushed at Dean again.

Castiel walked over to Dean and placed his hand under his chin.  He turned Dean to face him and was met with curious eyes; sclera still blackened, at least in the dim light, but his iris shown their former brilliant green.  Castiel narrowed his eyes and slowly withdrew his hand.  It was unsettling, but fascinating at the same time. 

Sam pushed at both of them this time, physically telling Castiel they should leave.  He looked over to where John lay and started to ask what happened, but Sam lowered and shook his head, tail drooping as well.  Castiel dropped his shoulders as it began to dawn on him that John must’ve sacrificed his life for Dean; the ethereal glow was his life force.  Castiel glanced between the two brothers, looking for some indication of what to do now, but Sam’s reaction didn’t change.  They were going to leave him be.

Castiel nodded in understanding and turned to the tunnel that led out of the grotto.  It took a fairly considerable amount of prompting from Sam to spur Dean into following him.  Once they made it out of the tunnel, Dean moved to the side and sat down, watching Sam and Castiel with perked ears as they continued for the mouth of the cave.  Sam stopped at the entrance and glanced back over his shoulder.  He yipped to get Castiel’s attention and trotted back inside.  He nipped and prodded at Dean, who responded with a slightly annoyed and confused whine before getting to his feet.  Sam pushed Dean towards the mouth of the cave and Castiel called for him.  Dean paused for a second, further confused by the sound, then moved forward of his own volition.

Castiel opened the door of the truck and waited to see if Dean would hop in on his own.  Somewhat unsurprisingly, he didn’t.  Sam barked and yipped at him and Dean glanced between him, Castiel and the truck.  He put his paw up on the running board and looked back to Sam and Castiel.  Castiel tipped his head towards the interior.  Dean eyed the interior, then jumped up.  He moved awkwardly across the bench seat and settled himself in the center seat, from paws on the center console.

Sam shifted back into a human and took seat in the front, shutting the door as Castiel went around to the driver side.  He started the truck and turned around.  Neither of them said anything and Dean only watched the landscape ahead of them.

“Is he okay?” Castiel murmured.

“I don’t know…” Sam sighed, “It’s just— his mind’s completely silent.”

“How do you mean?”

“We can always feel each other’s emotions, sometimes so strongly it’s like speaking.  When he was hysterical, it was just static noise.  And nails on a chalk board.  He was cut off, but there was at least something,” Sam replied, “Now, it’s just…nothing.  Like he’s not there.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

“I want to say it’s good, he’s better than he was, but…”

Castiel was sure he knew what the rest of Sam’s thought was.  Dean was better now, but he might not be Dean anymore.  He might not be _anyone_ anymore.  Castiel slid his hands to the bottom of the steering wheel and glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye.  His thousand-yard stare out of the window never wavered.  Castiel took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, making it a point to keep himself focused on driving.

As it turned out, getting the truck back up the steep hill was a little more of challenge.  There were several spots where the ground was too soft and the tires spun without ever gaining traction.  Castiel had had to let the truck roll back and try to go back up around the spot.  Nearly thirty minutes later, he finally made it up the hill.  He drove around back to the garage and turned the truck off; Sam got out without a word and turned to coax Dean out as well.  He cocked his head to the side, not understanding what it was Sam was doing.  Castiel set his jaw and reached back to push at his shoulder.  He whipped his head around in surprise and shied away from the touch, shuffling his way out of the back seat.

Dean jumped down and glanced up at Sam, like he was waiting for direction.  Sam dropped his shoulders and pinched the bridge of his nose as Castiel came around the truck.

“Cas, I’m sorry, I— I can’t deal with this right now,” Sam admitted.

Castiel could hear the slight waiver in his voice.

“Of course,” Castiel nodded, “We’ll, um… we’ll be here I suppose.”

Sam gave him an apologetic look before turning on his heels, dropping to all fours and transforming in the same motion, then took off running.  Dean made a light, short, distressed yip and took a few steps after him.  Castiel stepped in front of him to stop him and again surprised him.  Dean backed up a bit and sat down, now looking up at Castiel for direction.

Castiel shifted and glanced around, swinging his arms anxiously.  He nodded his head to himself and started for the door into the house, pausing at the threshold to see if Dean was following him.  Dean shifted like he wanted to follow, but didn’t know if he should.  It took a few calls to prompt him to his feet, but he gladly trotted to Castiel.  He opened the door and held it, expecting Dean to continue through.  Following his current trend, he stalled at the door.  Castiel set his jaw and gave Dean a light tap on the hip to urge him forward into the house. 

Dean moved with more uncertainty, apparently not liking being in the lead.  He ducked his head and flattened his ears, turning back to Castiel.

“You can go wherever you’d like,” Castiel offered.

He didn’t move or look away.

“Alright, well…  I’m going to make dinner then.”

Castiel stepped around Dean and started going through his cabinets.  He didn’t have much motivation to actually cook anything and ended up settling on breakfast for dinner.  He purposefully made more than enough for himself.  He hoped it was enough for Dean as well.  He figured he must be starving; he hadn’t eaten anything since Vegas, save for the small offering Castiel had given him.  But that was next to nothing for Dean.  Castiel frowned and studied Dean for a moment.  He could swear Dean looked visibly thinner than the last time he’d seen him. 

When he served the food onto plates, he put more on Dean’s than he’d originally planned.  He carried the plates over to the table, followed by Dean who was intrigued by the smell.  Castiel set his own plate on the table and debated whether or not to do the same for Dean.  He ended up setting the plate on the floor, since it was becoming clear that he wasn’t going to be shifting bodies any time soon.

He set the plate on the floor and pretended to keep his attention on his own food.  Dean eyed the food for a minute before lowering his head to sniff at it.  He nosed at it and darted his tongue out to taste and, deciding it was in fact food, sank his teeth into the sausage link.  Less than a minute later, Dean had cleared his plate and was contentedly licking at the plate.  Castiel hid his smile behind his hand, using it to support his head as he picked at his own food.  Dean licked his lips and fixed his eyes on Castiel’s plate.  Castiel tapped his fork against his plate and shrugged.  He set the plate down for Dean and his eyes lit up as he cleared Castiel’s plate just as quickly.

Castiel’s smile faded just a bit as he watched Dean.  He sucked in a breath and stood up, deciding to take a shower.  Dean whimpered at his exit and Castiel repeated that Dean was allowed to do as he pleased.  He fought back the urge to go and coax Dean anywhere.  He couldn’t develop any kind of dependency like that. 

But he did shower quickly and come back to find Dean moving around the living room slowly.  Castiel remained in the hallway and simply watched him.  Dean stopped and stared at the door to the patio for a long minute before moving on and finding the couch just as interesting.  He narrowed his eyes at the furniture and turned back to the door then looked at the couch again.  Castiel could see the gears in his head turning— or trying to turn.  Dean huffed and moved on.  He dropped his head and sniffed at the floor, picking up a scent and following it.  He wandered through the house, going from the living room to the kitchen, then back to living room and on down the hall.  A few minutes later he came back and went to the couch again.

Castiel hummed in thought, wondering what it was Dean was smelling.  Whatever it was, he kept following it all over the house.  Castiel watched him for a short while longer before turning and going to his room.  He flopped down on his bed and gathered his blankets up as he turned over onto his side.  He settled down and closed his eyes, trying to will himself to go to sleep.  He’d almost fallen asleep when he heard the door creak open.

He propped himself up on one arm to see Dean snooping around in his room quietly.  Dean came up to the edge of the bed, sniffing curiously and the edge of the comforter hanging o off his bed.  Castiel’s heart gave a few hard beats in the hopes that Dean might at least jump on the bed to sleep with him.  Dean paused for a moment, then huffed and left the room.  Castiel sighed and laid back down, curling up on his side.

 

The next two days carried on the same way.  Dean spent nearly the entire day wandering and exploring the house, even when Castiel had left for work.  He didn’t know what else Dean could possibly explore in the house, but there must be something.

On the third day, he decided he needed to get rid of the truck.  That day.  He’d had it too long and was more than likely pushing his luck by keeping it.  The only problem was he didn’t know what to do.  Part of him wanted to return it, that’s what he would want if his own car had been stolen, part of him wanted to wreck it beyond identification to avoid any consequences.  He sent a text to Sam, asking what he think he should do. 

While waiting for a response, Dean came up beside him and set his paws up on the couch.  Castiel quirked an eyebrow at him and waited.  Dean sat back just before jumping up and turning about on the couch.  Castiel’s phone buzzed with a text, immediately catching Dean’s attention.  He tilted his head at the phone and stepped on Castiel’s thigh and stomach as he moved closer to inspect it.

“Dean, please, you’re— very heavy,” Castiel wheezed.

Dean ignored him and shifted his weight, pressing more into Castiel’s stomach as he raised the other paw to poke at the phone.  Castiel caught it before Dean knocked it to the floor and pushed Dean off him.  Dean whined in objection and layed down with his back turned to Castiel, sulking.  Castiel shook his head and opened the text message. 

Sam suggested having the truck’s interior deep cleaned to get rid of any evidence and simply leaving it somewhere.  Someone would call on the abandoned truck and it would be retrieved and brought back.  Sam offered to come over and help clean the interior out and take the truck somewhere.  He may still be working on getting identification documents, but he didn’t have them yet.  If police investigated the truck and found his prints, they wouldn’t be able to do anything.  Castiel was wary of the plan, but it was better than anything he could come up with.

Sam came over later that afternoon and seemed to be in a perfectly fine mood until he saw Dean.  He dropped his eyes and spoke softer, glancing occasionally at his brother as they worked.  Castiel asked him what was wrong and Sam chewed his lip.  He didn’t meet Castiel’s eyes as he straightened up and answered him.

He and Jess had decided to move.  They’d been thinking about it for a while and the plan before had involved Dean moving with them.  They postponed their plans when Castiel came into the picture, waiting to see the outcome of Dean and Castiel’s relationship.  But given recent events, Sam and Jess had talked it over and decided that they should move now.  It was more for Sam’s health, to prevent him from falling into the same hysterical state.  John was gone and Dean was, well…  He still couldn’t get a read on him.  But he wasn’t providing any kind of stability like he used to.  Sam needed to be around more skinwalkers.

Castiel stared slack jawed at Sam.  He understood the need for stability, but the way Sam was making it sound was that only he and Jess were leaving.  They weren’t taking Dean with.  Not that Castiel was so sure he would’ve let him go.  But if anything, now was when they should all stay together.  There had to be a pack of skinwalkers nearby that they wouldn’t need to move for.  Sam said there wasn’t, not any that were close enough to justify staying in Missoula.

Before Castiel could object further, Sam stopped him by saying it wasn’t something that was going to happen right that second.  It was going to be much sooner than later, but they hadn’t even started looking for a place just yet.  Castiel grumbled to himself and kept his mouth shut after that.

Two hours went by before they decided they’d cleaned the truck’s interior enough.  Castiel and Sam both gave short goodbyes.  Dean trotted after the truck, almost breaking into a run with Castiel running after, but stopped at the far end of Castiel’s driveway.  Castiel panted as he slowed beside Dean, relieved he hadn’t decided to give chase.  Dean whimpered and whined, dancing in place as he looked between Castiel and the disappearing truck.  He barked loudly after the truck, sharp enough that Castiel and winced at the volume.  Thankfully, he didn’t carry on.

Castiel gave him a moment before ushering him back to the house.  Dean went ahead of Castiel and waited for him by the door with his eyes on the ground and head low.  He opened the door and Dean went directly to the couch and nestled himself in the corner.  Castiel walked over and sat beside him, running a comforting hand down the side of his neck.  Dean flicked his eyes up at Castiel and, for a brief moment, he could swear they were just a little less blackened.  Castiel knitted his brows together and cradled Dean’s head in both his hands, making him look up.  His sclera was just the smallest bit clearer.  He was getting better.  Castiel let out a breath and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

Dean grumbled and shook his head free of Castiel’s hands.  Castiel leaned forward to see his eyes again.  They were still unsettling to look at with the discoloration, but Castiel had gotten used to them.  He tried to think if there was anything either of them were doing that was helping him, but nothing stood out. 

One thing Castiel hadn’t thought about when Sam left was how he was going to go to work.  He immediately texted Sam, asking him if he could come back real quick.  He just needed a ride to the junkyard.  Sam replied twenty minutes later, saying he’d come back to pick him up.  He was back at the house about forty minutes later, driving a different car; Castiel assumed it was Jess’.  Castiel went to leave and Dean was at his heels then.  He’d like to let him come with, but it was better that he stay.  They still didn’t know what exactly was going on with Dean; plus there was a part of Castiel that still wanted this to be a surprise.  He waved Dean back and shut the door, feeling a tinge of sadness as he did.

It wasn’t until they were five minutes away from Singer Salvage that Sam decided to ask what they were going there for.

“A replacement car,” Castiel answered simply.

“And you picked a junker?” Sam asked.

“No,” Castiel smiled, “Quite the opposite.”

“It’s a salvage yard, what not-junk car could be there?”

“You’ll see,” Castiel hummed.

Sam stared at him in disbelief for a minute, but Castiel didn’t explain further.  Curiosity did get the better of him, however. 

Once they got there, Sam followed Castiel, rather than just dropping him off.  Castiel went to the house and knocked on the door.  He waited and hoped Bobby was home.  Just as he started to turn to walk away, Bobby came to the door.  He gave Sam a wary look, but otherwise paid him no mind.  Castiel told him he was there to pick up the car and pay whatever he might still owe Bobby; he couldn’t remember any more if he did owe anything.  Bobby told him not to worry and went back into the house to retrieve the keys.  He handed them over to Castiel and led him and Sam to where the Impala had been moved to.

As soon as he saw it, Sam stopped at stared at the car.  Castiel flashed him a grin over his shoulder as he continued on.  It took Sam a solid minute to fully recognize the car and when he did, his face lit up like a child on Christmas morning.

Bobby left them then, telling them not to dawdle too long.  Sam strode up to Castiel and grabbed him by the arm as Castiel reached out for the door handle.

“Is this what I think it is?” Sam murmured.

“If you think it’s the Impala from your childhood, then I believe the answer is yes.”

Sam ran his eyes over the black body of the car again, slowly letting go of Castiel’s arm.

“I intended for this to be a birthday present for Dean,” Castiel said, “But it’s a little late now.”

“He’s still going to love it,” Sam stated, “I mean, I barely remember it a-and I just…”

Castiel smiled to himself, thinking of how Dean would react.  Or hopefully react, if he came back to himself. 

Sam fawned over the car for a few minutes, recalling the very few memories he had of it, before he reluctantly decided he needed to leave.  Before he left, he did make Castiel promise to take him for a ride later.  Castiel agreed to it, of course, and waved goodbye as Sam walked back to Jess’ car.

Castiel opened the door, frowning at the creaking noise it made and made a mental note to do something about it.  He slipped into the car, surprised to find the seats in such good condition.  He ran his hands over the worn leather of the steering wheel and started the engine.  It switched over on the first try and roared to life.  It sat there, idling and growling louder than any car Castiel had ever had or been around.  He pressed his foot to the pedal and the engine responded with a louder, fiercer roar.  Castiel grinned widely, excited to drive the car now.  He shifted the car into first gear and prayed he wouldn’t jam any gears on the way home; it’d been a long time since he’d driven a manual.

Castiel pulled up in front of the house.  He saw Dean perched in the front window of the house; the rumbling of the impala’s engine had piqued Dean’s interest.  He pulled the keys from the ignition and got out, scowling at the creak of the old door.  Dean dropped down from the window and went to the door, impatiently scratching at it.  As soon as Castiel opened the door, Dean strode by without so much as a glance.  He went straight to the car and circled around the black car several times.  He glanced at Castiel briefly for a moment before going around once more, then looking back and forth between Castiel and the car.

Castiel assumed Dean wanted him to open the door.  He did so and Dean hopped up in the car, slipping a little on the smooth, worn leather.  He sniffed and huffed at the gear stick and steering wheel, then climbed over the seats to the back.  Castiel watched as Dean investigated everything in the car, clambering back and forth over the bench seats.  Just like with exploring the house, Castiel was somewhat impressed with how long Dean spent going through the car.

After several minutes, Castiel shrugged and went inside.  He went about making dinner, with plenty extra for Dean, and ate while Dean continued searching through the car.  Nearly a half hour later, he came back inside and trotted up to Castiel.  He butted his head into Castiel’s shin and wagged his tail; Castiel smiled warmly down at him and patted his head.  Dean devoured his food and went off to wander around the house and wound up outside with the car again.

Castiel carried on and worked on chores that had backed up while he was gone.  After three hours, he decided he’d worked enough for the day and took a shower.  He cleaned up and dried off, getting dressed in his pajamas before going outside to check on Dean. 

He was laying stretched out across the front seat, half asleep.  Castiel was tempted to leave him, but he didn’t want to leave the car with open door or unlocked.  Even this far out from the city, he was still wary.  He could move it into the garage and shut the garage door, but that sounded like too much effort at this point.  Castiel walked over and shook Dean’s tail to get his attention and received a sleepy grumble.  He poked and prodded at Dean, telling him he couldn’t sleep outside in the car, until the skinwalker finally got up.

Castiel shut the car door and locked it.  Dean reluctantly followed him inside, glancing back at the car and nearly walking into the door frame in the process.  Castiel snickered and shut the door behind him, locking it as well, and went down the hall to his room.  Dean didn’t wander off to do who knows what around the house; instead, he continued following Castiel.

When Castiel flopped on the bed, Dean sat down on the floor and looked at him.  Castiel narrowed his eyes at him, trying to read the expression on his face.  Dean shifted his front paws and gave just enough of a bark to puff his lips.  Of course, that didn’t help Castiel much.  Dean repeated the motion and looked up and down the length of the bed.  Castiel assumed Dean was asking permission to get on the bed and scooted to the side.  Dean didn’t immediately take the invitation; not until Castiel patted the bed several times. 

Dean jumped up on the mattress and turned circles by Castiel’s knees.  Castiel frowned and reached out to grab at Dean’s upper leg to prompt him to come closer.  But Dean only retracted his leg and flashed an affronted look at him.  Castiel laid back and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes with a whiny groan as Dean plopped down.  Castiel moved one hand and peaked at Dean, who laid with his back to Castiel.

“What I am supposed to do?” Castiel groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am complete trash and i apologize. in my defense, i don't even remember april happening ;_;


	26. We Happy Few

Nearly a week had passed and whatever progress Castiel had suspected Dean was making had ground to a halt.  His eyes didn’t brighten anymore and he made no efforts past sleeping together to be close to Castiel.  He would watch Castiel for a bit, while he made dinner or did chores, but would eventually trot off to do god knows what. 

Castiel currently sat on the couch, idly texting Sam while searching for ways to help restore a person’s memories.  A link from Time gave him hope, claiming that a person’s memories were still there despite amnesia.  Following that, most of the suggestions were a nutritional diet, regulated sleep, drugs, therapy… 

Castiel sighed.  Sam had helped a bit with bringing enough food for Dean to eat and Dean had been sleeping normally.  Drugs, as he discovered the other day, were not an option.  He’d mentioned the idea to Sam when he’d come to visit and it was like a switch had flipped in Dean.  He’d become immediately defensive, crouching low and backing himself into a corner, snarling in a low warning. 

Therapy was still an option of sorts.  He could try jogging Dean’s memories by reminiscing or taking him to familiar places.  Unfortunately, most memories took place here in Castiel’s house.  He thought about taking Dean back down to the cave, thinking of how Christmas had gone for them.  But with only the Impala now, he wouldn’t be able to get there.  Next to that, there was the Roadhouse or the grocery store or the theater.  All places that wouldn’t exactly allow an essentially prehistoric wolf in.  And Dean had shown no inclination to return to a human form.

Castiel turned his phone off and set it aside.  He pinched the bridge of his nose in thought and distantly remembered Sam saying something about the psyche of a skinwalker.  That, given Sam and Dean’s bloodline, their psyches were finely balanced.  Others tipped in favor of either human or wolf.  What if, in healing him, the spirit had reset his balance?  Set him on the side of the wolf, maybe in an effort to make the healing more effective?  Castiel looked down at where Dean laid on the floor, contentedly gnawing on the thigh bone of whatever animal Sam had brought last time.  Castiel clenched his jaw, willing the thought away.  He was just being impatient.  He couldn’t expect Dean to be back to himself so quickly, or for his recovery to be making constant progress.

Castiel huffed and pushed himself up.  He walked by Dean, pausing for a moment to lean over and pat him on the head before going to the front door and slipping his shoes on.  He glanced back as he opened the door and stepped out; Dean didn’t seem to show much interest in him leaving.  At least, not until Castiel had made it to the Impala and started the car.  Then Dean was in the window, watching him intently with ears perked forward.  He’d done that every time Castiel had left for work or to go to the store.  And more than half the time, he was in the window when Castiel came home.

When he got to work, his shift started out dull as it often did on weekdays.  Jo had taken the slow pace as a chance to ask Castiel what was bothering him.  Castiel tried to play it off as just a rough night, but when Jo pointed out that he’d been acting strangely for weeks, she had him in a corner.  He simply said it was drama, but she wouldn’t accept that either.  She asked about work, family and Dean.  Once she mentioned Dean, she caught the quick flash of reaction on Castiel’s face and started needling about him.  However, she was having more success in annoying and frustrating Castiel.

It got to the point that he snapped at her that Dean had been in an accident and had lost a considerable amount of memory.  Somewhere in the far corner of his mind, he was proud of himself for not spilling anything more than that.  But more presently, he was sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose for the hurt expression on Jo’s face. 

“I’m sorry, Jo.  I didn’t mean to snap,” Castiel apologized, “I just have next to no one to talk to about it.”

“You could talk to me,” Jo offered.

Castiel cursed himself for getting into another corner.

“I mean, I don’t know how much I could help, but venting would still help.”

“Thank you, but I can’t,” Castiel declined.

“Why not?  Something involving the police and you’re just not allowed to?” Jo ventured, “I promise I won’t say anything.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, but it’s not that—“

Well, he supposed it partly was that.  Police were involved at one point, but hopefully Magnus had kept up his end of the deal and police wouldn’t become involved again.

“Then what is it?” Jo pressed.

“You…wouldn’t understand,” Castiel answered lamely.

Jo scowled at him.

“I know that sounds— cheesy, but I have no other answer for you.”

“Well, just tell me.  Maybe I would understand,” Jo replied tensely, “I may be blonde, but I’m not dumb.”

“Of course not.  But this is something I didn’t fully understand either.  It’s— It’s not common and I would appreciate it if you just let it be.”

He could see another remark forming and quickly excused himself before she had a chance to voice it.  He went to the kitchen and busied himself with cleaning, all the while letting his thoughts and frustrations run through his mind.  He kept at it until Ash’s voice broke his focus.

“You okay there, man?”

“Fine,” Castiel replied tightly.

“You sure?  Cause you’ve been scrubbing the same spot for a couple minutes and you look like you’re gonna cry or kill something…”

Castiel stopped and stared at the spot he’d been scrubbing for a minute, then took a deep breath and straightened up.

“I’m fine, Ash,” Castiel repeatedly.

“Alright,” Ash shrugged, “But if you’re gonna go at a stain like that, I’m pretty sure one of the bathrooms could use a cleaning like that.”

Castiel snorted and rolled his eyes as Ash turned and left.  He was more aware of his actions for the rest of the night and did his best to seem more like his normal self; though by the looks of it , Jo wasn’t buying it.

He was grateful when his shift ended and made a hasty exit.  He slammed the door of the Impala shut and started the car, noting how the needle of the gas tank barely moved.  Castiel narrowed his eyes at the gauge and grumbled out loud about the car’s poor mileage.  It may actually be worse than his truck was.

Castiel stopped off at the gas station just before getting on the interstate.  He jammed the nozzle in the gas tank and leaned against the car, giving the gas nozzle a thousand yard stare as it pumped gas.  The pump clunked when the tank reached its maximum fill and at the same time an idea sparked in Castiel’s mind.  He may not be able to take Dean into public places, but the interstate was deserted enough that he could at least take him for a drive and not worry about someone seeing him.  Even if they did, the speed limit was high enough that they wouldn’t have time to process what they saw.

He sped home, taking the turn onto his driveway a little too sharply and fishtailing a bit.  He came to an abrupt stop in front of the house and didn’t bother with switching the car off.  As he walked to the front door, Dean appeared in the window almost as expected.  He glanced at Castiel, then tilted his head at the Impala, wondering why it was running without Castiel.  Castiel unlocked the door and opened it just enough to lean in.

“Dean, let’s go for a drive.”

Dean stalled for a moment, then flung himself from the window and nearly took Castiel’s legs out as he pushed by.  He half-ran to the car, dancing anxiously by the passenger’s door as he waited for Castiel to catch up.  Evidently, Castiel wasn’t fast enough.  Dean hurried around to the other side and nudged open the driver’s door; Castiel hadn’t shut it properly.  He clambered in, bumping the horn with his hip and startling both himself and Castiel.

Dean sat awkwardly in the passenger seat, facing forward and shifting almost constantly to keep his front paws on the seat.  Castiel sat down in the car and reversed, throwing Dean’s delicate balance.  And doing so again as he shifted into first gear, and again when he turned out of the driveway.

For a long ways, Castiel said nothing.  He just peeked over at Dean from the corner of his eye to see him watching the oncoming road.  Several miles later, Dean twisted around in his seat and clambered over into the back seat.  He stared out of the rear window, perking his ears and tilting his head back and forth.  He licked his lips and whimpered as he looked between Castiel and the road behind them. 

Castiel glanced up in the rearview at Dean, watching Dean shift around restlessly and whine, but did nothing.  Dean flattened his ears in annoyance at being ignored and moved his head right beside Castiel’s.  He gave a gruff bark and butted his face to the side of Castiel’s face.

“What?”

Dean yowled softly and chuffed.

“You know I can’t understand you…” Castiel sighed.

Dean whimpered and yowled lowly again.

“That doesn’t change anything.”

He growled in frustration and flopped down on the bench seat.  Castiel looked at him in the rearview, hoping that maybe he would return to his human form to voice whatever it was he wanted.  But after a long minute, that hope was dashed.  Castiel chewed his lip and took a deep breath.

“Can you be human again?”

The thought has bothered him ever since it had invaded his mind.  Dean lifted his head and blinked at him.

“I’m— I’m not asking you to do,” Castiel said, “I just want to know if you can.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if wolves could clench their jaws or purse their lips, but he was sure Dean had just done both those as he turned his attention to the door.  Castiel rubbed a hand down his face and eyed the gas gauge.  He already used about a third of the tank.  He may as well turn back now; he wasn’t getting anywhere with Dean like he’d hoped.  All he was doing was wasting gas at this point.  He took the next exit to turn around, earning a slightly curious look from Dean. 

“We’re going home,” Castiel stated.

Dean hummed and laid back down, fixating his attention intently on the door once again.  He didn’t look away from the door the entire way home and, at one point, Castiel began to wonder if he’d even blinked.  He didn’t react when Castiel slowed down to turn onto his driveway, or when he came to stop in front of the house; not even when he cut the engine.  But when Castiel opened the door he was staring at, he nearly jumped out of his skin.  He scrambled back against the other door, mouth slightly parted and eyes wide.

“Are you alright?”

Castiel fought to keep the bemusement off his face while Dean’s expression shifted to one of offense.  He grumbled and huffed as he crawled under Castiel’s arm holding the door open.  He kept his head low and only stole quick glances at Castiel from the corner of his eye as they walked to the house.

Castiel opened the front door and Dean pushed him, quickly stalking off to another room.  Castiel snickered to himself, thinking he was going to hide in embarrassment at being startled.  In truth, that was a small part of it.  But the bigger reason was that Dean wanted to be somewhere quiet and without distraction; without Castiel asking him questions he either didn’t understand or couldn’t answer.

He went to Castiel’s room, knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed for a couple hours.  He hoped up on the bed, turning around a few times to get comfortable before settling down.  He laid his head down and stared out of the window, up at the rising moon.  He’d been doing this for days down, it just so happened that Castiel caught him in the middle of it.  Concentrating on random objects seemed to help him in some way.  Some objects more than others; the Impala was proof of that.  He remembered road trips, loud music that sometimes made Sam cry, warm wind whipping by.  He could remember most of his childhood now, thanks to the Impala.  The short time spent with Sam had sparked a few memories of growing up, though not much.  Him seeing Sam had him more focused on why they weren’t the same.  He knew they should be, he did know they were brothers and he knew they weren’t human.  But what he didn’t know was why couldn’t he be like Sam?

Castiel knew he should be, that much was now clear.  Castiel knew he wasn’t human either and Dean couldn’t recall anyone who wasn’t human, besides Jessica, who knew.  Castiel was special to him, he had to be if he knew this.  And from the way he’d catch Castiel looking at him from time to time… He must’ve been very special.  And if that was the case, what had happened that he could’ve forgotten someone he loved so much?  Castiel had mentioned drugs once and it had set Dean off.  Maybe there was an incident involving them and that was why Dean felt like his mind was just so full of holes.

Dean groaned and shook his head.  One problem at a time. 

He focused on the moon again, thinking only of how he could look human like Sam.  If anything, being able to do that would give him answers to everything else.  He tried to remember how to transform his body, but no amount of focus or thought was helping.  Before, it had been as easy and thoughtless as moving a body part.  Now it felt like he may as well be trying to move the nightstand with his mind.

An hour and a half later, Castiel came into the room and pushed the covers back.  He crawled under them, positioning himself awkwardly around Dean who hadn’t moved.  Castiel pulled the covers up, muttering a ‘good night, Dean’ and rolled onto his side.  Dean waited a few minutes, then sat up to look at Castiel.  He remembered waking up to see that sleeping face nearly every morning over the past few months.  Someone very special, indeed.  But still, Dean remained where he was and laid back down with a sigh, reminding himself to focus on one problem at a time.

The next few days went the same as they had since Castiel had brought him home from…  Wherever.  He couldn’t remember where he’d been, he just remembered a truck ride.  The only difference later that day was that when Castiel came home, he seemed to be more downcast than usual.  Dean flattened his ears and followed Castiel into the kitchen.  Castiel glanced over his shoulder down at Dean, his expression growing more distressed.  He looked away from Dean and said nothing, prompting Dean to butt his head against Castiel’s hip.

Castiel stalled for a moment before deciding to speak.  Unfortunately, Dean was having another of those days that understanding what Castiel was saying was difficult.  It was as if he were hearing Castiel’s words from under water.  He perked his ears forward and knitted his brows together in concentration.  It was something about Sam and Jessica.  And… leaving for California?  Dean cocked his head, wondering why them going on vacation was upsetting to Castiel. 

Castiel kept talking as he moved around the kitchen, preparing food.  From the sounds of it, they were going on a long vacation and in Castiel’s opinion it was unfair.  Maybe he had to house sit for them?  Dean had done that a couple times and he’d been bored out of his mind.  He didn’t understand how to work any of the electronics they got so much entertainment out of; himself included.  He also liked going out for runs, but couldn’t very well keep a key or clothes with him when he did so.  Sometimes a walk around town would suffice. 

Dean suddenly realized Castiel had gone to the living room.  He growled inwardly and trotted into the room; Castiel had stopped talking about Sam and Jessica.  Dean huffed and hopped up on the couch beside Castiel, eyeing the food he was eating.  Castiel cautiously pulled the plate away and pointed back towards the kitchen.  Castiel waved his hand to the kitchen a few times before Dean got the hint.  He jumped down and went back to the kitchen to find a plate of two seared steaks sitting on the floor.  Dean nipped at them a few times, checking to see if they were bone-in or not.  Upon finding they weren’t, Dean wolfed them down in only a couple minutes and went back to the living room.  Castiel was stretched out over the couch, idly tinkering with his phone.  Dean contemplated laying down with him, but ended up going back to his room.

Just as before, he settled himself down on the bed and this time stared at the headboard.  After a while, he felt a headache coming on, followed by a lance of pain through his jaw and front right leg.  He whimpered and moved around, thinking the latter had something to do with how he was laying.  The headache remained, actually getting progressively worse, but the other pain alleviated a bit.  Several minutes later, pain shot through his chest with enough intensity that he struggled to breathe.  In a panic, Dean bolted upright and gasped for breath.  The jaw and leg pain came back twice as bad and his head felt like someone had driven a nail through it.  He hacked and barked roughly, whining at the instant increase in pain in his jaw.

Castiel came running into the room, throwing the door open and was by his side immediately.  He fretted over Dean in just as much of panic and with just as little knowledge of what to do about it.  The pain increased and spread throughout more of his body; it felt like something was trying to snap his bones and tear his flesh.  He howled and whined, screwing his eyes shut and curling up on his side and desperately pleaded for it to stop. 

After several agonizing minutes of the tortuous sensations, they finally reached their peak and slowly began to subside.  Dean laid on the bed feeling completely numb and kept his eyes closed, panting heavily.  Castiel still worried over him, wanting to touch him to try to comfort him, but resisted for fear of spiking his pain.  When his breathing returned to normal, Dean cracked one eye open to see Castiel’s worried face.  He whined softly in an effort to convey he was alright, but it came out sounding much weaker than intended. 

Castiel chewed his lip and tentatively placed his hand to the side of Dean’s neck.  It felt like sand paper, especially when he rubbed his hand in a soothing gesture.  Dean swallowed back a whimper and just closed his eyes again.

He drifted off to sleep with Castiel’s touch feeling more pleasant.  He came around about an hour later, vaguely aware of Castiel laying down beside him, but under the covers.  He fell back asleep again and rested for about two hours before pain struck again.

It wasn’t slow to come this time around.  It came out of nowhere in a heartbeat and spurred Dean into thrashing.  Castiel flailed at being woken up so suddenly and scrambled back from Dean, falling from the bed in the process.  He got back to his feet quickly and was again in the position of wanting to help, but fearing touching Dean.  He yelled over Dean’s howling, asking in vain was wrong, what was hurting.  Castiel bit his lip and ran from the room, nearly tripping over his feet as he ran for his phone left in the living room.

With shaking hands, he snatched up the phone and jabbed at its screen to bring up Sam’s number.  The phone rang several times and went to voicemail.  Castiel cursed and threw a worried look back towards his room, then redialed the number.  It went to voicemail once more.  Castiel called again and hurried back to the room as the phone rang.  He nearly missed Sam’s groggy voice under Dean’s howling, but on hearing what was going on, he snapped wide awake.

“ _Dean?!  Cas?!  What’s going on?  Cas!”_

“Sam, something’s wrong with Dean!”

“ _I can hear that!  What happened?”_

“I don’t know!  This is the second time, nothing happened, he’s just— in so much pain out of nowhere, I don’t know what to do!”

_“Shit, I don’t— I don’t know either, but I’m coming over!”_

Castiel tossed the phone aside as Sam spoke, now daring to grab Dean’s face.  Dean snarled and snapped at him, then twisted away.  Castiel crawled closer and reached out for him again.  In that moment, Castiel _felt_ Dean’s shoulder blade break.  Dean let loose a snarling scream of pain and shook violently.  Castiel reeled back, staring at his hands and clutching them to his chest.  He felt tears sting his eyes at the helpless feeling overcoming him.

By the time Castiel heard banging on the front door, Dean’s pain had already peaked and was ebbing again.  Castiel stood on trembling legs and went to the door to let Sam in.  Neither one bothered greeting each other, Sam just demanded to know where Dean was and Castiel simply pointed to his room.  Sam took long strides to the bedroom, stripping his clothes and falling to all fours in fluid motion.  He jumped up on Castiel’s bed and gingerly nosed at Dean with a gentle bark.  Dean shied away from the contact and weakly growled at Sam.

Sam yipped and yowled at Dean repeatedly, shifting anxiously.  He whined and lower his head, watching Dean with intense concern.  After a half hour, Sam swallowed and looked to Castiel.  Without thought, Castiel picked up Sam’s discarded clothes and tossed them to him.  He pulled them into a sort of arrangement to cover himself as he transformed back, though Castiel had seen him naked a couple times before.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Sam admitted, “And… he’s not very good at communication anymore, even this way, but I don’t think he knows what’s wrong either.”

“There has to be something, this doesn’t just happen,” Castiel cut, “…Does it?”

“Not that I know of…”

Castiel looked over Dean’s body again.

“When he was…” Castiel started, “I touched his shoulder.  And it broke.”

“What?”

“It broke.  I felt his shoulder blade break.”

Sam whipped his head back to Dean.  He fidgeted his fingers for a second before daring to reach out to touch Dean’s shoulder.  Dean groaned and curled up, but didn’t recoil this time.

“It’s not broken,” Sam noted.

“Can he heal that fast?  Because I know I felt it,” Castiel insisted.

“It would depend on the break, but it’s possible,” Sam answered, “But how could you break it?”

Castiel shook his head with a shrug.  Sam knitted his brows together and pressed his hand against Dean to test him.  Dean grumbled and whined as he wormed away from the pressure, but his bones felt fine. 

Sam didn’t get up from his place on the bed.  He opted to stay in his spot, which Castiel didn’t object to, and watched Dean.  Once again, Dean slipped into sleeping.  Castiel moved around the bed and sat down next to Dean, placing his hand to the side of his face with the utmost care. 

Castiel and Sam spoke quietly, tossing ideas back and forth about what could be causing this.  But the conversation reached a lull relatively quickly.  They had nothing to go, save for residual effects of hysteria or withdrawl. 

They came around to talking about Sam and Jessica moving.  They’d found an apartment down in Palo Alto, California and were planning on packing their things this weekend.  Castiel was tempted to ask how Sam was feeling, if he could feel the oncomings of hysteria; but the question died on his tongue.  Listening to Sam, Castiel wanted to say there was a small twinge of it there and hoped it was slow progressing.  Sam seemed unconcerned by it though, since they were moving this weekend.  There was a large pack of skinwalkers down in Palo Alto, he’d be fine in no time.

An hour slipped by and Dean was still sleeping soundly.  Both Sam and Castiel had relaxed, but they were still concerned.  Another hour went by without incident and their eyes were growing heavy.  Castiel let himself fall back on the bed, not bothering with the blankets, and Sam debated between staying there or going home to Jess.  In the end, he chose to go home after a while longer, promising to come back when Castiel went to work.  Castiel hadn’t even thought about this happening while he was at work, but knowing Sam would be here kept his mind at ease.

Castiel fell back asleep shortly after Sam had left, though it was a restless sleep.  He woke up several times through the night out of nothing but worry.  Every time he did, Dean was fine and snoring lightly.  The night past without incident and Castiel was beginning to wonder if the two moments were somehow flukes or if he’d actually imagined Dean’s shoulder breaking under his touch.

When the morning came, it proved that they were flukes.

Castiel woke up slowly, feeling the weight of a sleepless night.  He dragged his feet to the bathroom to take a shower and had scarcely finished when a series of howls erupted.  Castiel jumped and slipped, landing hard on his ass and nearly hit the back on his head on the floor.  He groaned and huffed as he rolled to his side and pushed himself up, then went running back to his room.

Dean was writhing on the bed again, thrashing at the blankets and stretching and straining every part of his body in the process.  Without a thought, Castiel grabbed low on Dean’s forelegs in an effort to turn him towards him and broke both his wrists.  A fresh cry of pain tore from Dean’s mouth and Castiel recoiled in fear.  Again, he was forced to sit back and watch for fear of causing more harm.

This time around, however, Castiel noticed odd distortions in Dean’s body.  He may have broken both his wrists, but that wasn’t hindering movements at all.  Instead, they were moving in a different manner, with more range, and his toes splayed further.  He heard several more cracks as Dean continued writhing and each one resulted in either another distortion or more range of movement. 

Castiel squinted his eyes and studied Dean closer, just curious enough to push his fear and concern aside.  His toes were elongated, his muzzle shorter, chest compressed and shoulders broader.  Dean twisted onto his back, arching up as a tremor ran through his body and his hind legs shifted to an awkward looking sort of attachment.  There was more sickening crack before all the distortions began undoing themselves and reverting back to a more natural appearance.

This episode had lasted nearly twenty minutes and left Dean heaving for breath and trembling with aftershocks.  Tentatively, Castiel reached out and Dean flinched back.  Castiel stopped and watched as Dean regained control of his breathing and calmed down, occasionally glancing up at Castiel.  Castiel waited a few minutes before he reached out and placed a hand on his ribs, feeling the skin twitch under his fingers.  He could feel Dean’s heart hammering still.

“Are you alright?”

Dean turned to face him and gave him something of a reassuring look.

“Were you— trying to transform?” Castiel asked cautiously.

Dean cocked his head at him and stared for a minute before laying down with an exhausted puff.  Castiel ran his down the length of Dean’s body; everything that had cracked was now perfectly fine.  Just like when Sam had checked.  He rubbed his hand back up Dean’s body and trailed down his forelegs, then up again and brushed over his face.  Everything was fine.  Castiel hummed in thought, trying not to get his hopes up.  He stayed by Dean’s side, gently combing his fingers through his fur until he remembered he had been in the midst of getting ready for work.

He left Dean to get dressed, checked on him, ate breakfast and checked on him again before leaving for work.  Dean jumped off the bed and trotted to the window, ignoring the tender feeling in his muscles.  He watched as Castiel pulled out of the driveway and waited until he was out of sight to push off the window.  He walked to the living room and stood in the middle with his legs more than shoulder width apart to steady himself.

He’d caused himself this pain, more or less on purpose.  He hadn’t thought his body would resist it this much.  And the second time last night had been an accident, he’d been dreaming of being human again and subconsciously tried to start the transformation.  He took a deep breath, now prepared for what was to come with his efforts.  Dean focused on being human again and the pain of transformation set on him

He dug his claws into the floor boards and screwed his eyes shut as he snarled at the feeling of bones beginning to crack again.  Out of everything, his hip bones, shoulder blades and face were the most painful.  Dean did his best to keep relaxed in hopes of making the process easier, but when the vertebrae of his tail began compressing up into his spine, he tensed every fiber of his being.  He was wrong, this was the most painful.  He dropped to the floor, curling up on his side with high pitched whimpers and whines as the vertebrae continued to crush themselves.  His claws began to pull back into his toes as they stretched to fingers.  A massive pressure settled into his face as his muzzle was likewise crushed inwards.

Dean suffered through it as long as he could stand, but when the pain continued to build with fewer and fewer results, he gave up.  The pain stalled, then the pressure started reversing itself, forcing parts of his body to extend once more, though that hurt remarkably less.  He was left panting and dizzy on the floor.  He brought his paws up over his face with a whine of both pain and frustration.  It used to be so easy, there was never any pain before.  Now it was like his body was refusing to do what it should be able to do.  There had to be a reason for it, something else had to have happened that he couldn’t remember.

He intended to try again once he recovered and rested for a little while, but Sam’s arrival put a stop to that plan.  He’d failed to communicate to Sam that he knew what was happening and he doubted that he could do much better now.  Sam was by his side in an instant, checking over Dean for any lasting injuries and asking what was wrong.  Of course, he got nowhere with that.  Sam tried shifting into a wolf to communicate, but that actually seemed to be worse.  Where humans words sometimes sounded like he was hearing them under water, this sounded like a muffled raging storm. 

Dean sighed and whined in defeat.  He got up on shaky legs and slinked off to go lay down in Castiel’s bed.  Sam came in every so often to check on him and try to talk to him, but nothing ever changed.  Twice, Sam brought food in, which Dean was more than grateful for.  He stayed for about six or seven hours before going back home to take care of Jessica. 

Dean waited a moment to make sure Sam was gone before getting up to try transforming again.  He’d scarcely starting trying before he heard the rumbling of the Impala.  He panicked and stopped the process as soon as he could, noting that the beginnings were almost painless.  He was even able to act as if nothing was wrong when Castiel came in. 

When they went to bed later, Dean did his best not to think of becoming human.  He didn’t want to start the process in his sleep again.  But it was all that was on his mind and sometime around two in the morning, he started it.  Thankfully, he woke himself up just as the pain was starting and was able to reverse it.  He stayed awake for several minutes after that, taking the time to clear his mind again, all the while staring thoughtfully at Castiel.  He grumbled inwardly and scooted a bit closer to Castiel.  In his sleep, Castiel turned closer to Dean and draped an arm over his neck.

The next day was a repeat.  Almost exactly.  The day after that, however, Sam spent only a minute or two at the house.  He seemed saddened by something and he was trying to tell Dean what it was, but Dean was having another bout of not being able to understand anything being said.  He would figure it out later, when he was human again. 

When Sam left, Dean figured he probably still had a few hours before Castiel came home.  He went back to the living room and braced himself.  As before, the beginning was almost painless and it remained that way until it came to his spine and muzzle compressing.  He gasped and snarled his way through the compressions, even as his teeth receded and others reshaped; creating more pressure to his face.  His joints popped and cracked more, lengthening and shortening to force them towards human form.  At this point, now getting further than he had before, his organs began to rearrange themselves and nearly made him throw up.  His ribs shoved his lungs and pushed his heart, making him choke and gag.  His stomach churned, his intestines roiled, his kidneys stung with lightning pain—

Too much.  This was too much, he couldn’t push past it.  It was harder this time to put a stop to the transformation and it even scared him when the reversal didn’t start right away.  He collapsed to the floor, feeling as though he were on the verge of passing out.  He breathed deeply and focused on staying awake, using his paw as a point of focus.  He stared at it, curious how close he’d come this time around.  He didn’t try again for the rest of the day or night.

Sam didn’t come over the next day.  Dean shrugged to himself, assuming today was when he and Jess left for vacation.  Having the entire day to himself, Dean steeled himself to try to push himself further.  Even if he didn’t have any total success, he was going to keep trying until his body forced him to quit.  He tried four times that day, never getting past the shift of his organs.  But it was slightly more bearable each time. 

Castiel came home and was immediately troubled by the sight of Dean barely awake and unfocused on the floor.  He fretted over Dean and Dean did his best to convey he was alright, more or less.  He leaned his head into Castiel’s touch and gave the most stable sounding chuffs.  It must’ve worked, he could see the anxiousness leaving Castiel’s face.  Another expression replaced it, one Dean couldn’t quite place.  If he had to guess, he’d say it was a cautious curiosity.  Castiel had said something about his eyes.  Something about them looking clearer?  He didn’t understand; as far as he knew, they looked as they always had.

The following week went the same and Dean was beginning to get suspicious of the length of Sam’s vacation.  He couldn’t remember he and Jessica ever taking more than about a weekend for vacation, regardless of where they were going.  Dean shook his head, chasing the thought from his mind to concentrate; he’d ask Castiel soon.  Very soon.  His most recent effort had nearly been a success, judging by the sight of his hands.  That was all he’d been able to look at long enough as the pain and pressure seared through him. 

He stood in the bathroom this time.  His plan was to make it as far as yesterday and hopefully haul himself up to look in the mirror.  He swallowed thickly, only somewhat anxious at what he might see in the mirror.  Dean took a deep breath and forced the transformation again.  Everything went perfectly smooth, quick and painless, up to the movement of his organs.  He thrashed a bit on the floor swallowed down vomit, but he could do it.  He opened one and saw his hand with near proper looking fingers and opposable thumbs, save for the broad claws that were nails quite yet.  He kept the process going as he reached up with a quaking hand to grab the counter’s edge.  He gripped the edge as tightly as he could, keeping himself steady as he brought the other hand to the edge and pulled.  His claws scratched lightly at the counter top, but only for a second.  His flaws flattened and thinned to nails by the time he got his face even with the ledge.

Dean pushed himself up further, bringing his feet under him, but still not trusting his trembling legs to bear his weight.  He took another deep breath and closed his eyes just before looking up to see his reflection.

His breath caught in his throat.  He hardly recognized himself, having not seen his own human face in so long and struggling with memory.  He studied his face closely, checking to make sure it was indeed his human face and not an amalgamation of a failed or stalled transformation.  There was still a bit of a feral look to him; his eyes wide, bright and wild with teeth still too sharp for a human.  His hair was a mess, sticking in every direction, and patches of skin looked to be calloused. 

Dean tentatively reached a hand forward to touch his reflection.  He flicked his eyes down at his hand, no claws or patches of residual fur.  He felt the cool surface of the metal under his fingertips, then brought his hand to touch his face.  The skin was rough, as it looked, but there on the side of his face was due to a light stubble.  That was probably residual fur; beards were rather uncommon among skinwalkers.  He straightened up and dared to let go of the counter as he looked down at himself.  There were a few minor things still settling, but this was him.  He was human again.

He cracked a smile and huffed a laugh; a sound that sounded so foreign to him.  He stopped for a second, puzzled by it, but then let himself give another breathy laugh.  He snapped his head back up to the mirror to see himself smiling with a lopsided, toothy grin.

He splayed his fingers in front of him, turning his hands over and feeling excitement bubbling up.  He staggered out of the bathroom, the feeling of balancing on two legs so odd after so long.  He bumped into the walls a few times, but regained his balance quickly and moved almost perfectly by the time he reached the living room.  He made his way through and went to the kitchen, catching himself against the counter as his balance momentarily left him.  The clock on the microwave read _5:47pm_.  He narrowed his eyes at the clock, trying to remember what time Castiel would be home.

Castiel’s schedule wasn’t always consistent, but, judging by the time he left, he should be home within an hour or so.  Dean beamed another smile, though it faded quickly as a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him.  He went back into the living room and collapsed onto the couch.  His body involuntarily reverted back to a wolf form, but he did nothing to resist it.  At least he knew he was capable of returning to a human now.  Turning human in the first place had taken a lot of energy and a nap sounded like a good idea right now. 

Dean was startled awake hours later to the sound of the front door opening and hitting the wall.  He snapped his head up just as Castiel winced at the noise and muttered an apology to Dean.  He then apologized for being home so much later, which Dean didn’t realize until he glanced outside to see the darkened sky.  He’d taken Sam and Jess to the airport and it had taken them a considerable amount of time to pack the car.  Just how long of a vacation were they taking? 

Dean shook his head and followed Castiel to his room.  Castiel kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers before flopping on the bed with a sigh.  Dean walked up to the side of the bed and debated on how he would show Castiel that he could be human again.  It might not be the best idea to do it right in front him, for a couple reasons actually.  For one, it wouldn’t be pretty sight.  Castiel had seen him transform, but it had always been quick.  There was never any time to see grotesque distortions and he’d never stalled midway before.  The second reason, that he was just now realizing, was that it may have been something of a fluke earlier.  He hadn’t tried to be consistent with it yet.

Dean grumbled audibly, earning a confused look from Castiel as he trotted back out of the room.  He went into the bathroom and started the transformation.  It was almost an exact repeat of earlier, much to his relief.  He held the side of the counter for a moment, catching his breath and settling his shaking body.  He inhaled a deep breath and held it as he looked up at his reflection to make sure he’d made it all the way.  He’d gotten just as close as before, still having feral look to him, but nothing frightening.  He exhaled slowly and spun on his heels, trying not to run back to Castiel’s room. 

He tripped over Castiel’s shoes and stumbled forward, catching the corner of the bed to stop his fall and drawing Castiel’s attention.  Castiel’s eyes went wide and his lips parted as he just laid there on his stomach with his breath caught in his throat as he looked over his shoulder at Dean.

“S-s-sup-riiise,” Dean offered.

His voice was rougher and deeper than either of them remembered.

“…Dean?”

Dean grinned and nodded.

“I’m not…dreaming, am I?”

“N-no.”

In the blink of an eye, Castiel surged up and threw his arms around Dean’s neck and sent them both to the ground.  The pain of hitting the ground so roughly had Dean’s body aching to return to a wolf, but he fought it off.  Castiel sat up onto his knees and had hands all over Dean’s body, touching and rubbing every inch of skin in disbelief.

“How did— Since when can you—“

Castiel couldn’t even form a full question, he was too busy refamiliarizing himself with this body.

“Since, um… ‘day—“

“Today?”

Dean nodded.

“Been t-trying long ti-ime.”

Castiel stopped for a second and looked at him.

“Is that what you were doing before?  When you were in pain?”

Dean nodded again.

Castiel opened his mouth to ask another question, but so many were racing through his mind now that he ended up working his mouth wordlessly.  Dean laughed beneath him and in that moment, Castiel decided those questions could wait.  He fell on top of Dean again, peppering his face with kisses in between mutterings of missing him for so long.  As much as Dean enjoyed it, it got to the point that Dean had to push at his face to make him stop.

Castiel clung to him all night, never once losing contact with Dean for a second.  It was a struggle to maintain his humanity so long, but it was well worth it.  He’d relax his body once Castiel fell asleep, which proved to take a considerably long time.  He stayed awake until nearly three in the morning, just memorizing the way Dean looked and tracing idle patterns along his arms until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.  Once he finally did go to sleep, Dean was right behind him, falling asleep only seconds after his body reverted to a wolf.

Of course, waking up to see Dean this way immediately sent Castiel into a spiral of depression; easily believing yesterday had been a dream.  Waking up to Castiel’s crushed face sent Dean into a panic, driving him to transform nearly as swiftly as he used to. 

Again, Castiel was on him in an instant.  He even considered calling in sick to work and Dean didn’t object to it.  in fact, Dean encouraged it.  But Castiel thought better of it, just barely.  At work, Jo and Ash were surprised in the sudden change of Castiel’s mood.  He was still unfocused at work, but remarkably happier.  They asked him about it, but he brushed it off.  It still wasn’t something they would fully understand.  Ash let it go, deciding as long as he was back to his normal self that it really didn’t matter.  Jo pestered him a bit more, though she got nowhere.

Castiel hurried home to Dean and wouldn’t let him out of his sights.  Staying human was getting easier bit by bit the longer he did it for.  It was easy to maintain hours at a time already.  Everything was well and fine, perfect even, up until a few days later.

“Where Sam?” Dean asked.

There was a fracture in Castiel’s blissfully happy expression.  Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion and Castiel sighed.  He couldn’t— wouldn’t lie to Dean.  But he’d been hoping to get just a little more time of happiness before dealing with this problem.

“He, um…” Castiel swallowed, “He and Jess moved.”

“Moved?”

“He had to,” Castiel said, “He said he had to.  He didn’t want the same thing to happen to him.”

“What thing?”

Castiel clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.

“Dean, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Dean sat back in thought.

“Bad place,” Dean murmured, “Dark, scary, smell bad.”

“Do you remember what happened there?”

“Some.”

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose.  He wouldn’t be able to tell Dean what happened to him exactly, he could only tell him the results of it.  And as he spoke, Dean’s face paled with every word he said.  Castiel omitted as many details as he could, which wasn’t many, in an effort to spare him.  The longer he talked, the more it looked like he was beginning to lose Dean.  Dean even subconsciously began to put distance between himself and Castiel, feeling guilt and bile welling up in his throat.  Castiel reached out to ground him and Dean reeled back, tumbling over the back of the couch.

Castiel went to help him, but Dean yelped and scrambled back.  He curled in on himself slightly, looking down at his hands as if they’d betrayed him.  Castiel called to him, but he didn’t respond.  Castiel moved closer and Dean snapped to attention just before bolting from the floor to the back door.  He barreled through the door, nearly taking the hinges off in the process, and fell to all fours in a fluid motion.

Castiel swore under his breath and ran to the door, putting his hands out to stop himself at the door frame.  Dean was already gone from sight.  Castiel clenched his jaw hard enough to ache as tears burned his eyes and threatened to fall.  He cursed again, this time in a quiet and broken voice.  His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, leaning against the door for support.  He’d just gotten Dean back and just like that, he was gone.  He didn’t even know where he was going or if he was going to come back.  Castiel closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against them as he took in a ragged breath.  He had to come back.  He had nowhere else to go.

 

Five days.

Five days later, Castiel heard the boards of his deck creak under the weight of something.  He dashed his own hopes before they had a chance for fully form.  He’d been imagining and dreams things since Dean had left.  The door gave a slight groan as it was pressed on.  Castiel glanced up at stared at it with baited breath.  A light scratch at the door had him getting to his feet and crossing over to the door.  He caught a glimpse of a shadow moving on the outside wall, spurring him to move faster.  He wrenched the door open and was hit with a wave of nostalgia as Dean stared back at him with the look of child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.  Just like the first time he’d seen Dean face to face.

There was a beat, then Dean flung his arms around Castiel and brought him into a bone-crushing hug as he buried his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck.  He didn’t say anything, he only wrapped his arms around Dean as best he could and leaned his head against his. 

“’m s-sorry,” Dean mumbled.

“It’s alright,” Castiel whispered.

“No.”

Castiel shook his head minutely.  It was alright, Dean came back, so everything was alright.  But didn’t believe it.  There was no way it could be alright, not what he’d done.  It would never be alright.

His body shook with restrained sobs, a few escaping in a strangled cough.  Castiel pulled away just enough to take one of Dean’s wrists and lead him inside, haphazardly kicking the door closed.  He bypassed the couch and went to his room— their room, it was their room again— and pushed Dean back onto the bed. 

Dean went easily, though he pulled Castiel down in the process.  Dean curled up to him, making himself as small as possible.  Castiel didn’t say anything, he only snaked his arms around Dean and waited.  The sobs trapped inside won out and wracked Dean’s body as the tears flowed freely.  The sobs quickly escalated to dreaded wails, bringing hot tears to Castiel’s own eyes, but he did nothing to shush Dean.  He let him go until he was hoarse and nothing left in him. 

By that point, Castiel felt almost as empty as the numbed skinwalker in his arms.  They laid in comfortable silence, marked only by the faintest hiccup or sniffle, for the better part of an hour before Castiel coaxed Dean up.  Dean grumbled and weakly resisted, but eventually got up and was led to the bathroom.  Castiel started up the shower, turning the temperature to only just above room temperature.  He busied Dean into the shower first, then stripping off his clothes and joining him.

It was a quiet shower, neither one of them saying anything but falling easily into the routine of washing off the other.  Castiel kept a close eye on Dean as he lathered his hair up and tried to suppress a shudder at the amount of dirt he felt in Dean’s hair.  Dean’s expression was minutely lighter and progressing slowly, but Castiel would take it.  His expression lightened further when it was his turn to wash Castiel; in his mind, the simple act was a step in the right direction to making it up to Castiel for attacking him.  Dean grimaced at the thought and swallowed, blinking away the fresh wave of tears.

After the shower, they both crawled into bed; Castiel didn’t bother getting into pajamas.  Dean stretched out beside him, no longer feeling the want to curl up like a small child.  He wrapped his arms around Castiel and drew him flush against his chest.  Castiel twisted around in his hold to face him and pressed a light kiss to his lips before closing his eyes with a content sigh.

The next morning was peacefully quiet.  It was Castiel’s day off and both of them were content just to enjoy the other’s company.  Neither of them really struck up a conversation until the end of the day and even that was light.

Towards the end of the night, Castiel’s phone rang.  Castiel was busy making a late dinner, leaving Dean to be the one to pick it up. 

_Sam._

“Hello?”

“…D-Dean?”

“Hi, Sam.”

“Dean? Sam repeated.

“Yes…?” Dean answered slowly.

“Are you really— Are you okay?”

“Am now.  You?  And Jess?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam breathed, “We’re fine, Jess is doing a lot better—“

“Sorry,” Dean interrupted, “’m sorry.  Didn’t know or, or—“

“You don’t have to apologize, Dean.”

“Y-yes, I d-do.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault.  It wasn’t even you,” Sam said, “Don’t apologize.”

“Okay,” Dean mumbled.

“If anything, I should apologize,” Sam continued, “I didn’t know…  I didn’t know you were so close to being better.  I would’ve stayed a little bit longer, at least so I could say goodbye the right way.”

“S’okay.  Understand.”

“You do?”

“Cas t-told what happened.  W-wouldn’t, um, wouldn’t want same thing for you.”

“Dean…”

Castiel appeared beside Dean then, making him flinch slightly.  Without a word, Dean handed Castiel the phone with an unreadable expression.  Castiel wiped the caked seasoning from his fingertips off on his pants and took the phone, glancing at the screen.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Hey, Cas.  How’s everything going?”

“Much better now.  Dean didn’t remember much of anything since Alistair and Azazel caught him,” Castiel replied, “But he does now.  That didn’t go over particularly well, but it’s better now.”

”Good, good.  How is he?  I mean, does it seem like he might— slip?”

“No, he’s been, well, he hasn’t been himself exactly yet.  But he’s getting there, I don’t think he’s going to have a repeat,” Castiel said, “If that’s possible.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think it is.  Like our dad said, all the stories end with the hystericals dying.  This is new territory.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“I’m good.  A lot better now that we’ve got settled in, the pack down here is super friendly.”

“I’m glad.”

“You gonna be okay up there?”

“Yes, I think so,” Castiel breathed.

He heard a hiss from the stove, something spilling over the burning.  He took a step back to look into the kitchen to see Dean picking up where Castiel had left off with cooking.

“I think everything’s alright now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rise from the depths to give you the final chapter. i almost broke it into two parts since it's about 2k longer than the other chapters, but i didn't wanna drag it anymore.  
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH. ESPECIALLY THOSE OF YOU WHO'VE BEEN READING SINCE THE BEGINNING TWO YEARS AGO HOLY SHIT MAN.  
> come say hi to me on [my tumblr](http://leo-arcana.tumblr.com/ask) or drop ideas for timestamps in my askbox! i'd be happy to get those rolling, i just need suggestions c:


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